


The Covert

by Anonymous



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bacta (Star Wars), Badass Cara Dune, Bounty Hunters, Childhood Trauma, Cultural Differences, Culture Shock, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Din Djarin Whump, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Parent Din Djarin, Hurt Din Djarin, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Mandalorian Armor (Star Wars), Mandalorian Clans (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Not Beta Read, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Cara Dune, Protective Din Djarin, Protective Paz Vizsla, Soft Din Djarin, Soft Paz Vizsla, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 10:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Following a royally kriffed up mission, Cara and Din, sore and exhausted, are forced to seek refuge with Din's covert to retrieve Grogu and wait for repairs to the Razor Crest. Cara learns a lot more about Mandalorians than she ever thought she'd know. Potential Cara/Din?
Relationships: Din Djarin & Cara Dune, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda & Paz Vizsla, Din Djarin & Paz Vizsla, Grogu | Baby Yoda & Everyone, Grogu | Baby Yoda & Paz Vizsla, The Armorer (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune
Comments: 62
Kudos: 102
Collections: Din Djarin





	1. Entrance

It was just past dusk and darkness was settling in when Mando told her they were getting close.

He set the ship down a ways out of city limits and led her into town, down twisting alleyways cutting through enough sharp turns and strange passage ways that Cara wondered how he ever remembers it all. With each turn a little more light slipped away until Cara was quite sure they're underground now, finding herself latching a hand to his cloak to avoid losing him in the darkness. Mando kept walking, navigating the endless corridors as though they were his home, which to him, she supposed, they are.

Finally she spotted a light in the distance, a torch, and beside it stood a Mandalorian who managed to make even Mando look quite small.

Mando glanced back at her. "Stay behind me."

Given that the other Mandalorian sported a blaster on his shoulder big enough to disintegrate her on the spot, and given that Cara was running alarmingly low on both weapons and energy, she was not disinclined to agree.

Mando greeted the other, exchanging a few words. The other Mandalorian's gaze fell upon her, somewhat accusatorily, and never had Cara wished more that she understood Mando'a.

What sounded like a brief argument occurred, and listening closely, she managed to catch a few words.

"-aruetii -" _outsider_

Well, she could be relatively certain they were talking about her then.

"-Kyrbej Burc'ya-" _(something?) friend_

Mando was explaining why he brought her. She recognized a few other words as something she had heard him say before, but she couldn't quite place the meaning.

Eventually the large Mandalorian gave her another once over before nodding, and stepping aside and reaching for something from his belt.

"Aliit ori'shya tal'din." The large Mandalorian took a key and unlocked the door that had been behind him.

Cara followed Mando through the door, momentarily blinded by the influx of light and the chattering noise that erupted from the doorway. When her eyes adjusted, she became aware that she had just stepped into a massive room chalk full of more Mandalorians than she'd ever seen - all of whom happened to be staring directly at them. No, not at them. At her. Her face, more specifically.

She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks. and ducked her head at the attention.

Looking out, she saw that every face was covered, if not by an armored helmet, then by something of a cloth covering that showed nothing but the eyes.

Within a few seconds, the Mandalorians resumed their chatting and working, but still, an uncomfortable number of eyes lingered on her form. Especially the curious gazes of the children, amongst which was Grogu, happily cooing away as the children played with him. Din didn't often leave him behind, but he'd had a feeling this particular mission would go to crap, and he'd been right. Cara watched him greet Grogu, then the other children as well, who still looked decidedly less interested in him than they did her.

Cara hadn't realized she froze until Mando gently tugged at her sleeve, pulling her forwards, farther into the room. He led her back to a doorway behind the room that opened up into a series of hallways. Before long they stopped in front of a room. Though a cloth curtain partially concealed what lay within the room, Cara could see the glow of a fire, along with part of a rather regal looking Mandalorian tending to the flames.

Catching his arm, she stopped him from entering.

"Mando-"

"Din," He turned to her, "I'm called Din here."

"Din, then. They don't seem to like me very much, and I don't want to cause you problems with your clan. Don't you think it'd be better if I-"

"You are safe here and you are no trouble" Din assured, "Now, come on. We have to report in."

Beads clinked the stone walls as Din pushed the curtain aside and gestured for her to enter. Cara followed him until they stood in front of a low table that sat directly across from the fire and the regal looking Mandalorian. Beside her, Din knelt, a gloved hand resting on each knee. After a moment's hesitation, Cara followed suit. She was more aware of her bare face than ever now, feeling the Mandalorian's gaze burning into her somehow, despite being unable to catch the woman's eyes herself. Once the Mandalorian, the armorer, Cara realized, took her place at the other end of the table, Din spoke.

"For the foundlings." He said, placing a number of credits onto the table which Cara knew amounted to nearly all he processed.

_So that's why his ship is always so kriffed up,_ She thought.

"They thank you, as always Din Djarin." the armorer took the credits, stowing them in a pouch at her side. Din ducked his head in something akin to a bow.

The armorer turned to look at Cara. "You have taken a _cyare_?"

Cara wasn't sure what a _cyare_ was, but Din nearly choked in reaction to it.

"Um- no, she's-" Din stumbled over his words

" _Burc'ya_." Cara supplied, desperately hoping she wasn't making a fool of herself. "I'm his _burc'ya_."

"You speak Mando'a?" the armorer turned to her, helmet tipping slightly, interested.

"No, just pieces. Words." A moment of silence followed her response, and Cara's gaze dropped to the table, uncomfortable once again, at the attention given her.

The armorer looked back to Din and spoke a few more phrases, questions, in Mando'a. Somehow being left out of the conversation she had no doubt was about her was equally undesirable, and suddenly the fire beside them became quite fascinating. Din replied to the armorer and Cara couldn't help but notice the ease with which the words rolled from his tongue. It made sense in a way, that he was so quiet usually. Basic was his third language after all. It's no surprise he wouldn't feel comfortable with it. Din was still precise, she could tell, using only as many words as necessary to get his point across, but there was no hesitance, no lag time in his speech. Not like there was in Basic.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, the conversation was over and the armorer stood.

"Rise." She said.

Din and Cara stood. The armorer looked at both of them.

" _Vod_ to Djarin is _vod_ to all." the armorer stated, "You will be welcome here now, and always. This is the way."

"This is the way." Din agreed.

"You have seen much. Go to the _baar'ur_ ," the armorer looked to Cara, "the medics. They will see to your injuries. I will send someone to prepare your rooms."

" _Vor'e._ " Din bowed his head.

_Thank you._ Cara's mind supplied, bowing her head as well.

They turned to leave and were only a few feet from the door when the armorer was heard again.

"Paz will want to see you."

Din nodded, and led Cara out the door.

"Who is Paz?" Cara asked, once they again walked through those dark, endless stone hallways.

"He is _ori'vod_. My older brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother." Cara said, "He was rescued with you?"

"No, he's not a foundling. He is clan born."

"Oh."

* * *

The exhaustion of the day, and the battle that had caused their need to go to the Covert was beginning to take its toll on her. Her body ached and she felt the stretch of a blaster burn against her shoulder. Mando's- Din's- she corrected- armor had been damaged and was in need of more repair than he could confidently handle himself. That, and their hyperdrive was kriffed, which meant they had to stay in system until they'd fixed it. It was sheer luck that the Covert happened to be here.

Cara found her mind drifting and she almost didn't notice when Din slipped past a curtain into one of the rooms lining the hall.

The room was mostly bare, only a few cots lining the wall along with a set of cabinets. There were two Mandalorians there, one taking Din's shoulder, and the other, hers, guiding them each down to a cot.

Cara sat as instructed, and she wished for a moment she'd been led to sit beside Din. Somehow staring into cold beskar wasn't particularly comforting when having her injuries inspected. It occurred to her that it would be no different if Din was next to her, it would still be just cold beskar. Somehow though, silly enough, she'd grown to think of his helmet as being his face. His helmet was different somehow, and it was significantly more inviting than the one that hovered before her.

Even so, the touch of the Mandalorian medic, though experienced, was gentle and Cara found herself eventually relaxing, interrupted with single "dank ferrick!" when the medic happened upon a particularly tender part of her wound. Closing her eyes as she leaned against the wall. She was safe. Safe here.

Soon enough it was determined that while neither Din nor Cara possessed any particularly severe injuries, the worst being Cara's minor concussion, they had apparently accrued enough scrapes and bruises to warrant being told to take it easy for a while, followed up by some light pain meds.

A Mandalorian woman entered the room and walked to Cara, greeting her warmly.

"I am Faik. I'm here to show you to your enclave."

Cara looked back to Din, who nodded.

"I'll see you again at last meal, I need to see the kid," he said, "Faik will get you cleaned up."

Cara nodded, swallowing dryly. She wasn't sure what about all this was so difficult for her. Usually she was just fine around new cultures, but- this was Din's, and she didn't want to kark it up. Everything that had happened thus far had felt vaguely familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. There were things she recognized from the little Din had told her about his people, but she had never actually seen any of it herself.

* * *

She followed Faik to a small room that contained a cot and a small closet. She stood in the room, feeling a little lost and out of place.

"I put some clothes there in the closet for you. The ones you're wearing are rather dirty and could probably use some mending."

Cara watched her flit about the room, fixing little things, rambling on a bit.

Her slowing mind noted that Din was the exception rather than the rule when it came to rate of speech.

"I figure you'll probably want to wash before last meal." Faik said, "I was about to head there myself. I can show you where, if you'd like?"

Cara knew she must look a mess, she could feel the grime coating her, but she was dead on her feet and that cot looked awfully soft and comfortable... A nap would do her good, and it was definitely a lot less effort.

She was drug out of her thoughts again by Faik's voice.

"Come on. You should wash. Can't have that blaster burn getting infected. There will be time enough to nap later."

Faik was right of course. It wouldn't do to get sick because of a stupid decision. Cara nodded numbly and scooped up the stack of clothes on the shelf, wondering briefly what the outfit looked like before deciding she didn't care.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mandalorians are a strange people. Also, Grogu likes water, Paz is observant, and foundlings are cute.

After entering the bath house, Cara learned very quickly that while Mandalorians were scrupulous about never showing their face, they were not particularly concerned about any other part of anatomy.

There was a small booth in the corner of the steamy room with a water basin where Mandalorian women seemed to wash their face and swap out their helmet for a cloth headwrap/mask. When they exited, they placed their helmets along a bench. Clean clothes were placed in a neat pile to right of the helmet, and right there, in front of everyone, dirty clothes were removed and crumpled to the left of the helmet.

Cara was not a particularly shy person. She was a soldier, and as such had done what was necessary, when it was necessary. But communal showers in the military weren't something one lingered around in. It was a get in, get clean, get out type of deal. Here, women lounged about the steaming water, chatting with each other about as much as they washed themselves.

She felt her cheeks get warm as she followed suit. She had removed her armor earlier, when she'd been in her enclave, but now everything else came off. Resisting the temptation to cover herself, she felt incredibly bare as she followed Faik around to the pool entrance, especially as all the women stared at her. They were looking at her face, she knew, but it seemed to make no difference to her rapidly coloring face. Anxious to get into the water, which would provide at least a little privacy, she sank into the pool.

The warm waters did wonders for her sore muscles, releasing knots she didn't know she had. But the relaxation only made it up to her shoulders. As uncomfortable with the situation as she was, she couldn't help but to take in the visible eyes of the women around her. Eyes that would be replaced by beskar before even leaving the room. Some of the women had a thinner, mesh cloth covering their eyes, others had their eyes uncovered. Cara wondered what made the difference. It was comforting, she supposed, to finally have it confirmed that, yes, Mandalorians did indeed possess faces. It humanized them, or rather... people-ized them. Most were human, but not all.

Cara saw what she thought was a twi'lek woman and she couldn't help but wonder how one might fashion a helmet to fit the woman's lekku.

* * *

Shortly after Cara left the med bay, Din saw Paz enter with Grogu rapidly in pursuit. He gurggled and cooed as he toddled up, attaching himself to Din's calf.

Din picked Grogu up, holding him in front of him eye level.

"Been keeping an eye on my _ori'vod_ , huh _ad'ika_?" Din held Grogu against his chest, having disposed of his armor previously.

"He was anxious to see you," Paz said, "as was I. They didn't tell me when you came before. I wouldn't have known you'd been here if it wasn't for the little one."

"We didn't leave on the greatest terms if you recall."

"We didn't." Paz agreed, "But you know I can never stay angry with you, _Din'ika_."

Din made a show of grumbling at the suffix, but in reality he appreciated the sentiment. And honestly, he might have gone to see Paz on his patrol, had the mission not been time sensitive. While his _ori'vod_ was forgiving, he did have quite the temper and it was nearly impossible to tell how long it might take to cool after any one incident.

"I am glad you are home." Paz clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Come. You smell worse than bantha dung."

Din let out a huff, but followed Paz to the bath house. He really did smell like bantha dung.

He settled into the waters of the near empty bath house and feeling the gentle ripples, he knew Paz had walked in aside him.

They settled into the familiar rhythm of their youth, Paz describing the events of his day, Din humming in acknowledgement as they cleaned themselves, letting the smooth Mando'a tongue settle in his ears.

_"Who is this woman you bring?"_ Paz asked, standing to get them towels as they exited the water.

_"Cara."_

_"Ah, the Cara that helped you retrieve this little one?"_ Paz plucked Grogu from the shallow tub of water sitting aside the pool, clobbering him with a towel. Grogu gave a dissatisfied grunt.

_"He likes water,"_ Din took Grogu from Paz, " _It's helped me narrow down the search for his home."_

_"Hm."_ Paz rubbed the towel along his arms. " _You trust this Cara."_

_"With my buy'ce."_ Din replied.

Paz walked into the corner booth. He exited a moment later with his helmet on.

"It was a statement, not a question, brother."

* * *

Faik motioned for Cara to approach her and small group of women.

"Come, it's warmer here."

Hesitantly, Cara went to the women.

"This is Bheba, Zhae, and Irelk." Faik introduced, "Bheba and Zhae are clan born, but Irelk hails from Alderaan."

Cara's head turned to Irelk. "Alderaan?"

"Yes," Irelk nodded, "You know of it?"

"I was born there." Cara said, "I was off world when The Disaster happened..."

"The last time I was there, I was a child." Irelk reflected, "Only 8 standard."

"What happened?" Cara asked.

"My parents were gunned down after trying to trade with the wrong people. I would have been too, had my _buir_ not found me."

Conversation turned lighter as Cara and Irelk shared relics of their youth. They'd not lived near enough to have met in childhood, but near enough that some cities and landmarks were recognizable to them both.

And then, when each had shared a story, they were done.

Turning to the clothes laid out on the bench, she first took the blouse. The rich red color of it was a far cry from her usual teal and black, but she welcomed the warmth. Leaving the water had set a slight chill to her. The front of the blouse laced up, she noted, as did the blouses of the other women, but they all laced theirs differently.

Recognizing Cara's hesitance, Faik explained, gently pulling the leather cord form her hand.

"All Mandalorian blouses are laced. The _way_ it is laced represents your _aliit_. Your clan."

"I'm not Mandalorian."

"You aren't." Faik agreed, "but you do have a clan if you choose to recognize it."

"I don't understand."

"You are here as _burc'ya_ _ah_ Din." Faik explained, "The _Mando'ade_ do not take such terms lightly. To say one is _burc'ya,_ a friend, is to claim one as _vod_. As family."

Cara let the words sink in.

"You are not Mandalorian, so you may lace however you wish." Faik said, "But I can show you to lace for clan Mudhorn if you choose to claim him as _vod_ in return."

Family. Mando had claimed her as family. Briefly, Cara wondered if it had just been to get her into the covert, if he was just claiming her in words so that they had somewhere to go. But these people, this culture were sacred to Din. He wouldn't do something like that. If he didn't mean it, he would have just left her back on the razor crest while he went to see the Covert. But he didn't. He claimed her, and she would claim him in return.

"Okay."

Faik's eyes crinkled, in what Cara guessed was a smile, and she began to lace up her blouse for her, slowly, so Cara could see how it was done.

Despite Mando'ade lack of care about nudity, they did seem to have a thing about not touching bare skin, so that wasn't just a Din thing. It occurred to her that while she imagined many of the eccentricities Din had could easily be explained by the Covert's code and Mando'ade culture, she wondered just how many were actually just Din things. His personal preferences.

The bath house was only for females, and she assumed there was a male version that mirrored it somewhere. Being female, Cara had never seen much more than Din's wrists unless he was injured, but she couldn't help but wonder if when there were only males on the Razor Crest, they saw an eye full more than expected.

"You have a question, Cara?"

Jumping back to the real world, Cara shook her head.

"Um- well. You don't show your faces," Cara began, "and I'd just kind of always imagined you'd be rather conservative about-" Cara gestured down along her body, "-everything else."

"Oh. I suppose that would be confusing." Faik looked almost amused, finishing up with a knot at the top of the lacing. "Mando'ade believe that the face is keeper of the soul. When we wear our helmets or our masks, we all look the same. We become one. Though our bodies be different-"

"You are of but one soul." Cara said, echoing something Din had said. "I think I understand. I imagine it also helps to be used to bodies when treating wounds."

Faik nodded, "Din chooses his _burc'ya_ wisely, I see."

"How do you mean?"

"Not all can understand and accept our ways, at least not so easily."

"I was a shock trooper, and a lot of the things you Mandalori- Mando'ade-" Cara corrected herself, "do, are just military philosophies taken one step further. I'll admit they're a bit strange to me, but they make sense."

"I am glad you think so."

They were nearing Cara's enclave now.

"Get some rest, Cara _Din'burc'ya_." Faik said, "You have much more to learn tonight. I will send a foundling to wake you come last meal."

Faik lowered her head as she backed out of the room, and Cara lowered hers in response. Cara was lucky that bowing was an Alderaanian custom as well. At least she could be confident that she wasn't disrespecting anyone by accident.

Flopping onto the cot, Cara noted another thing that she had thought was Mandalorian, but must just be a Din thing. Din used a ridiculous number of blankets on his cot in the Razor Crest, but not a single pillow. He always made himself something of a blanket nest and then curled up inside of it, which looks quite ridiculous when one still has a helmet on and is coated in shiny, bulky beskar.

Cara's cot contained a nice _normal_ number of blankets, and a pillow, all of which were laid out smoothly across the cot. Yes, blanket nests were just a Din thing.

Cara let herself linger on the thought as she drifted to a much needed sleep.

* * *

" _Do the honors tonight, brother?"_ Paz asked, " _Grogu will adore you."_

" _He already does."_ Din stated, staring down at the little green growth on his leg.

" _Yes, of course, but he likes fire even more."_

Din hummed in agreement, _"Fine. I'll light it tonight. But not tomorrow. Can't have you getting out of your chores."_

Paz smirked. " _Better get started then."_

Picking up Grogu, Din started towards the main room of the Covert. Stacked in the corner was a pile of firewood that would be enough for tonight at least. Initially, Din took a large armload of the wood and started towards the center, only to be instantly reminded that he had in fact participated in a mission today. His ribs, though not broken, were quite battered on his left side, and they protested his movement. The next armload of wood he got was considerably smaller.

Din heard Paz's voice float from the doorway, just a touch of concern in his tone. "You saw the _baar'ur_?"

Din nodded, but continued working. "Bruised, not broken. I'm fine."

Paz hummed, "I'll send the foundlings to help you."

Sure enough, Din found himself surrounded by foundlings, including Grogu, only a few moments later, all eager to please. He directed them on how to properly lean the logs against each other to create a fire that would burn the longest with the least maintenance.

For the first few minutes, Grogu just sort of sat there, watching, but eventually he toddled up alongside one of the younger foundlings who was struggling to carry a log towards the fire pit, and held out his tiny hand, focusing intently. Suddenly, the log appeared to become quite a bit lighter, and the foundling gave Grogu a fond pat on his fuzzy little head in appreciation.

And if Din smiled beneath his helmet, well, no one could prove that.

* * *

Soon enough, the logs were stacked to Din's standards. Now came the fun part. Paz removed his vambrace and tossed it to Din, since Din's was currently being repaired.

"Stand back behind me." Din motioned for the foundlings to scoot back as he put on the vambrace. The vambrace was definitely far, far too big, but it would work if he held it in place. Din picked up Grogu.

"Want to press the button, _ad'ika_?"

Grogu cooed, then joyfully pressed the button, igniting the flamethrower and eliciting awed gasps from the foundlings. Din waved the thrower around, making sure to get all sides of the wood thoroughly on fire.


	3. Spotchka and Stories

Cara awoke to see eyes above her. Her hand itched towards a blaster that thankfully wasn't there, because she realized that the eyes above her were a child's, bright, and laden with curiosity.

"Last meal." the foundling said, "Faik sent me."

"Did she send you to stare at me?" Cara grunted, as she sat up.

"No. I do that myself."

Well, apparently bluntness is not just a Din thing.

The foundling girl continued to stand there, staring at her, looking increasingly antsy.

"Alright, I'm coming, I'm coming." Cara slipped on her boots, and followed the foundling girl out of the room.

"Where are we going?"

"The kitchens." The foundling responded enthusiastically, "Faik is there."

Suddenly, the foundling stopped and turned to her.

"Why do you not wear a buy'ce? Was it removed of you?"

"I'm not Mando'ade." Cara explained, "Just Din's burc'ya."

"Oh."

Cara attempted to judge the age of the foundling, but the cloth mask made it difficult. She was probably something of seven standard or so. Depending on how old she was when she was found, it was perfectly possible she'd never seen an outsider before. Cara knew, from what Din had told her, that children weren't usually allowed outside of the covert until they were 10 standard.

They came to the kitchens, and Cara was bombarded with the smells of peppers so strong they stung her eyes.

"Cara, join us. We all pull our weight here." Faik said, gesturing to a number of mandalorians, both men and women, who were chopping away at various vegetables.

Within seconds, Cara was handed a knife and a large stack of vegetables.

"I'm not much of a cook." Cara said, trying to hand the vegetables back.

"Ah, but you're certainly good at slicing and stabbing things." Faik said, "These things just happen not to be sentient."

Cara couldn't argue with that logic, and she found herself hilt deep in something that roughly resembled an Alderaanian leek. Her favorite vegetable, actually.

Apparently following Cara's eyes, Faik said, "Din requested me put extra this time. I don't know what for - he'd never cared for them much as an _adiik,_ as a child."

* * *

Soon enough, Faik determined enough vegetables had been chopped, and the broth that filled an enormous pot had come to a boil. Cara, along with each mandalorian, carried a bucket of raw, chopped vegetables into the main room of the covert, the _karyai,_ Faik had explained.

Upon entering, Cara saw that a rolling fire had been built up in a line spanning most of the room, leaving some space at the edges for walking around. The smoke funneled up into a large flue directly above. Foundlings and clan born children roughhoused by firelight, wrestling in good fun, but trying to show off their skills all the same.

Making her way towards the fire, Cara observed as Mandalorians migrated into the room from all directions, coming somewhere from the depths of the covert. She heard Din's voice, and saw him reclined against the stairs near largest entrance to the room opposite of her. He sat near another man, both of them watching the foundlings who were clearly trying to impress them, particularly Din, it appeared. Grogu toddled around near by, wanting to be in on the action, but not quite big enough or strong enough to participate quite yet.

Suddenly, a cry of surprise broke out, shortly followed by a ring of laughter. Cara couldn't help but join in herself.

"Grogu, no. Stop. Put him down." Din did his best to be stern, he really did. A strangled sounding laugh broke through anyway. The Mandalorian beside him didn't even try to hide it, giving into a full belly laugh.

Grogu's head whipped around upon hearing his name, and with a disappointed gleam in his eyes, he dropped both the flailing foundlings to the ground. Turns out levitation was something the foundlings hadn't quite learned to combat yet. The girl gave an indignant squawk upon her release, rapidly returning to her _buir_ , and the boy just scuttled away backward.

Din got the message when Grogu shot his little grabby fingers towards him, making little mumbly noises of apology and discontent.

"I'm not mad at you, ad'ika. You were clever." Din said, "You just need to learn not to gloat. Levitating them was fine, spinning them around was unnecessary."

"Spinning them around was _kriffing brilliant!"_ The larger Mandalorian exclaimed.

Unfortunately, Cara's meager knowledge of Mando'a was insufficient to understand Din's response, but it certainly sounded like a rebuke, and she caught the name Paz.

So this is the long spoken of Paz. Din had previously described their relationship as rocky, but rocky in a consistent way. There were many things they would never agree upon, but when it came down to it they had each other's back.

Cara heard her name called from the kitchens, and tearing her eyes away from Din and Paz, she went.

* * *

Faik handed Cara two large pitchers of spotchka before picking up two of her own.

"Usually it's just water or tea, but Paz declared that Din's visit warranted a treat. And naturally, I agreed." Faik said, "I'm never one to pass up some good spotchka."

"What will the kids drink?"

"Ah, it's up to the _buirs._ I bring out a pitcher of juice for the younger ones, some of the older ones might talk their way into some watered down spotchka," Faik shrugged, "No harm's come of it yet."

They carried out the pitchers, which earned some attention and exclamations of joy from those who noticed the blue gleam seeping from the pitchers. The mandalorians bustled into a neat line behind the table they sat them at, eagerly awaiting access to the drink.

"The vegetables are in the pot and the drinks are on the table," Faik said, "Time to join the fun."

After pouring herself a cup of spotchska, she flipped up a straw from the side of the tin cup and shoved it up under her helmet, downing it in one long drag before she poured another cup. The cup wasn't small either. Cara couldn't help but be impressed.

"So much better than that kriffing _ne'tra gal_." Faik shook her head, "That black ale is one of the few traditions that should have died with the ancients."

Faik shoved two cups into her hand, tilting her head towards Din on the other side of the room. "Make sure that _di'kut_ , that _idiot_ , drinks too. It's his party."

Cara smirked, offering a stern salute with a cup full of spotchka, followed up by two of the few words she'd picked up so far. " _Elek, al'verde_." _Yes, commander._

* * *

Paz stood over a huddle of foundlings, cup of spotchka in hand, animatedly relaying a _clearly_ exaggerated story of one of his and Din's many misadventures as adiik. The rolling fire and swirling smoke behind him only served to assist the thrill, the foundlings staring up in awe as he went about his tale.

Cara saw that Din still sat where he'd been earlier, reclined against the stairs, watching Grogu squeal in delight as Paz's story continued. His head flicked to Cara as she approached, taking a seat next to him.

"Drink?"

Din began to shake his head but stopped, his eyes catching on the leather lacing her blouse. He drew a gloved hand up to the leather trailing from the knot, gently sliding his thumb along the surface as he held it.

"Faik showed me how. She said it was your clan's design."

Din murmured agreement, slowly releasing the cord and accepting the drink she pressed in his hand. They sat in silence for awhile, sipping away at their spotchka while enjoying Paz's stories and Grogu's response to them. At the climax of a particularly suspenseful story, Grogu let out a fascinated coo. He made grabby hands at Paz, who picked him up immediately, using him as a prop for the story. Grogu helped with sound effects, although all of them sounded suspiciously like coos, gurgles, and giggles.

Din shook his head with fondness. 

"The kid doesn't understand a word Paz's saying, ya know that?" Din shook his head with fondness, "But he sure can tell it's exciting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm just making sure you guys understand what this fire is supposed to look like because I did a crap job of explaining it. It doesn't look like this "O" it looks like this "- - -". A nice long line of fire going through the center of a roundish room. Din and Paz were right at the end of the line, opposite to where Cara had come from. Is my imagination specific? Yes, of course. Incredibly. Do I know how to explain it? Rarely.
> 
> Short chapter this time, but it seemed like a good stopping point.


	4. Tipsy Mandalorians Are Good Fun

As it turns out, tipsy Mandalorians are quite entertaining.

Once they had a few drinks in them, it was no longer only the foundlings roughhousing by the fire. A few adults had joined in, allowing the older foundlings to test their skills on larger, more aggressive targets. The alcohol consumed by the adults slowed their reactions a bit and made for a more level playing field, as well as provided an excellent excuse to fall back on if the foundling actually managed to win the scuffle. Full armor was forbidden in the fights, and blows, while not pulled per say, were not meant to debilitate. It was not unlike lionesses teaching their cubs to hunt. Which, Cara supposed, was essentially what it was.

She had hoped the alcohol would loosen Din's tongue, and it did to a certain degree. Cara had never seen him drink before, but he was clearly no stranger to it, just as she had expected. She could feel his body relax beside her as he started to feel the buzz.

That seemed to be most Mandalorians' preferred state. Buzzed, but not enough so to dull awareness. Cara noted with interest that there were several Mandalorians not partaking, and all were seated near the doors of the Covert, guarding the people within.

Music erupted in the background as the covert's elders began another strange song with their string instruments. The strangeness of the song wasn't so much in the song itself as it was the fact that it was played by a smattering of instruments from different planets. Some she recognized, some she didn't, and none had been designed to work well together and yet - It did. The music was jovial and lively, and exactly suited to the (currently) talkative people who listened. Strange, definitely a bit of a patchwork, but beautiful all the same.

Cara's attention was drawn back to the real world upon Paz's approach. Briefly gazing at her, he turned and spoke to Din in Mando'a. Din translated.

"He said, 'shall we test the lady's mettle?'" Din turned to Paz, "Bad idea. She's got a concussion."

"Let her speak for herself."

Cara eyes flit between the two of them before downing the rest of her drink and shoving the empty cup in Din's hand.

"Bacta's done it's work." She shoved the empty cup into Din's hand, "I'm good to go a few rounds." Cara could almost hear Paz's smug smile. She could definitely hear Din's annoyed sigh.

"Quit your grumbling, brother," Paz planted a hand on Cara's shoulder as he led her away from the steps. He looked over his shoulder once they stopped. "You can take on the winner."

"What? You're volunteering me for another round?" Cara rolled her eyes.

"I like this one." Paz nodded in appreciation, "She has much _copad_." Again, Cara could hear the cocky smile in Paz's voice. She wasn't sure what _"copad"_ meant, but she felt confident she knew the proper response.

"You gonna stop talking or is this just a verbal assault?"

* * *

Cara knew several things for sure.

1\. Paz was much larger than she was.

2\. Paz was much stronger than she was.

3\. There was no way in hell she was letting him win.

Mandalorians have it trained into them to analyze patterns in battles and adjust accordingly. Paz knew she was Alderaniaan and knew she was a dropper, so she would give him Alderaniaan dropper.

It was tougher than Cara thought it would be, limiting herself to only the basics of her training. She'd learned so much since leaving the droppers, especially since joining Din. Not that Paz was to know that - yet.

Paz was tense, initially. He played with her, much the same way a cat would play with a mouse, testing to see what would make her scurry. She played the game with him, and despite his minute adjustments, his style was still clearly Mandalorian with few outside influences. Makes sense for a man so loyal to his tribe and the Way. It also meant that he was predictable. Or at least, more so than she was.

Once he got a feel for what he thought was the realm of her abilities, Paz relaxed, let his guard down. When he started anticipating her strikes, Cara knew she'd won the match.

Cara feinted a strike and ducked around Paz's block and counter before using a open handed strike to the kidney that was decidedly not that of a dropper. To Paz's credit, he rebounded more quickly than she suspected, catching her in an arm lock. A well placed back kick resolved that problem quickly, however.

By now, Paz had begun to catch on. He kicked it up a notch, realizing she was more formidable than she'd let on. He let out a flurry of strikes, likely to see how much Cara could track at once. Thankfully, Cara had speed and agility on her side, and was able to avoid all but a fist to the jaw. She quickly regained her balance.

_Nope. Nope. Can't take it to the floor._

Cara preferred the floor usually, wrestling was always more fun, but it would give Paz far too big of an advantage. On the ground, her speed would not be enough to combat his weight and strength. On the ground, he could essentially just sit on top of her and there wouldn't be much she could do about it. So no. No ground.

Didn't mean she couldn't go aerial though.

Cara backed off, only played defense. Din thought the world of this guy, admired him to death. It only makes sense that... Cara saw Paz getting frustrated the match wasn't moving. She was right. He went for the same exact move she'd seen Din use when he got angry. A poorly planned, poorly executed attempt at some form of charging tackle that barely warranted the name. It wasn't intended to do anything really, she knew, just to get the match moving and convey displeasure, at the very most to get the match, but it provided an excellent opening.

Cara shoved his helmet towards the ground as Paz leaned forwards for the tackle. In the same instant, she jumped and planted her feet on the dead center of his back, face planting him.

_Eat dirt, Paz._

Before he could get his wits about him, Cara had him in an arm bar.

"Yield." Cara ordered.

Paz's reply was an attempt to flip her, but a sharp twist to his wrist told him that wasn't a great idea. It didn't take him long to realize he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Cara heard a 3 solid taps of beskar on stone. A yield.

Releasing him from the bar, Cara offered him a hand up. "Good match."

Cara felt his hand clamp on her forearm, and she hauled him up. They both stood there for a moment, catching their breath.

To be fair, Cara would likely not best him in the next match. She'd had surprise on her side this time, and unless he had a very poor memory, she would not have that again.

Returning to their seats, Cara awarded Din a sharp punch in the shoulder. "See, what'did I tell you? Concussion's all healed up."

"It wasn't you I was worried about. Concussions make you kriffin' scary." Din crossed his arms and turned to Paz, "The match was over the moment you managed to clock her."

Clearly the spotchka was loosening his tongue, because that was about as expressive as she'd ever heard Din's voice.

"You think you can do any better?" Paz challenged.

Din tilted his helmet, "Maybe."

Cara smirked, grabbing Din by the shoulder and pushing him towards the room's center.

"Prove it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think? We've got Cara settling in a bit, getting a little more comfortable, acting like herself again instead of a deer stuck in headlights. Confidence looks so good on her, doesn't it?
> 
> copad = ambition


	5. Fire is Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din and Cara go head to head, or rather head to helmet. Who will win? Also, Grogu has far more curiosity than is strictly healthy.

Din knew it was a bad idea. He really did. Which is why he couldn't believe he was this stupid when he let Cara tug him down to the fire.

The bacta had done its work, taking a few cracked ribs down to nothing more than some deep bruising, and he was still running off the last of his adrenaline. He hadn't gotten a chance to nap as Cara had, so his body had never hit the reset button. Din was definitely going to regret this in the morning.

But the spotchka was warm in his stomach, and it had long ago dulled the remaining pain in his ribs and chased away a little more of his common sense than he would prefer to admit. And you know, he hadn't sparred with Cara in a long time... It did sound like fun...

Din shook his arms out as he walked, loosening his body up and testing the alcohol's impact on his balance and coordination. He could feel it had affected it, but he'd been careful to drink slow, so it was more than manageable. Provided he did not attempt any spinning kicks or dodges, he should be perfectly capable of handling himself. Plus, Cara had been drinking too, maybe even more than he had, so it would still be a fair fight.

He took a loose fighting stance and waited as Cara did the same. There was no sizing up, as there had been in Cara and Paz's match. They both knew what the other was capable of. Din heard Grogu make an amused coo and a few claps following a kick Cara managed to land on his lower stomach, and Din briefly wondered exactly who his _adi'ka_ was rooting for. It certainly didn't seem to be him.

 _Rude little critter. Probably right though._ Din narrowly dodged a back fist to the helmet, catching Cara's wrist in a lock up behind her back. Cara responded with a back kick which caught him in just the wrong spot, jarring Din's ribs, and sending a sharp pain through them. His grip remained on her wrist, but his breath caught in his throat and he buckled forwards a bit. The edges of Din's vision wavered a bit, but the pain was already fading and he could tell it wouldn't over take him. Cara didn't have to know that though.

Din weakened his grip on her wrist, buckling himself a little more and letting out a shaky breath.

_Take the bait._

Cara turned towards him, bending over slightly with veiled concern.

"Din?"

He rammed his fist up in an upper cut. A brilliant plan, a solid fake out, only -

_Dank Ferrik!_

Cara had been ready for it.

She easily dodged to the side of the attack, leaving Din off balance and vulnerable to a hook kick to the mid-back that sent him sprawling on his hands and knees.

_She knows me too well._

Paz seemed to agree, whistling appreciatively.

Din began to right himself, but quickly found that the spotchka was making that a touch more difficult than normal. It didn't slow him down much, but it was enough for Cara to push him back to the floor and land a punch to his beskar as she straddled him.

_Definitely knows me too well._

The floor was Cara's domain. If she got you there, and you were under a hundred pounds over her weight, you were done for. But to be honest, the fact that Cara was beating the crap out of him in front of fellow Mando'ade wasn't sitting well and Din wasn't about to let it continue.

Din's hands struck out and caught her by both wrists, hefting his body up and letting the momentum flip her beneath him. He snaked around her, locking her in an arm bar, but quickly found his leg had been trapped between her thighs.

Soon, Cara nearly had herself free of his arm bar, and despite Din's best efforts, he was still quite trapped (Mandalorians certainly aren't known for their flexibility, after all). Thankfully, the time had given Din a moment to plan what to do when Cara disentangled herself from the bar.

A cry split through the room.

Din and Cara's eyes met, sharing the same thought.

_Grogu._

* * *

They were off the ground in a split second and moving towards the kid's cries.

Apparently Grogu had decided the fire looked awfully soft and cozy, and after sneaking off while the mandalorians watched Din and Cara's match, had decided to pet the fire.

Din swept him up and held him close.

 _Honestly,_ Din thought exasperatedly, _the kid knew to protect us from the fire back at the cantina, but now he decides to pet it?_

Din sighed as he gently wiped the little one's tears.

"Shh... Shh... It's alright now, _adi'ka_." Din soothed, "You're okay."

Grogu's cries settled to pitiful whimpers, and he stuck out his little hand towards Cara, revealing a small red patch on his palm. Cara took his hand, pulling it to her for a closer look.

"How bad?" Din asked.

"Nothing much, just a little burn." Cara said, "Didn't you teach him not to play with fire?"

"I figured he got the picture after the cantina!"

Cara shook her head, "Apparently not."

"Come on little one, let's get you fixed up. Here, hold him for a second." Din handed Grogu off to Cara before leaving the room.

"What are we going to do with you, little man?" Cara sighed, bouncing the still sniffling green bean in her arms.

Din returned a moment later with the galaxy's smallest bacta patch, pressing it against Grogu's outstretched palm.

"There. All better."

In an instant, Grogu's face changed from pain and despair to joy and the picture of innocence. He turned his head back towards the ground and reached, clearly wishing to be put down. Din nodded.

"Don't play with the fire. It burns you." He said as Grogu toddled away.


	6. Darasuum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cara gets a deeper look into Mandalorian culture.

The night continued smoothly, music continuing, and Cara couldn't help but wonder what the elders' voices sounded like without the modulator. Although, with Mandalorian music, clearly everything was an instrument, including said voice modulators, which had been tuned to different pitches to increase the depth of the music. Still, she had to wonder just what their voices, raw and unimpeded, would feel like upon her ears.

She and Din returned to Paz once Grogu had run off again. Cara felt Paz give her a once over and a slight nod of appreciation. Clearly, he'd been impressed with her performance in the match.

"How'd you know to look for the fake?"

"When he's hurt, his grip doesn't get weaker right off the bat. It always gets tighter first." Cara shrugged. "When it stayed the same, then weakened, I knew it was a trick."

"Hm." Paz took a sip of spotchka, " 'magine you've had more than enough time to watch him."

"Watch him? As if I have time to do that." Cara rapped her knuckles against Din's helmet, "I'm too busy bailing him out when he forgets to use anything beneath that beskar."

"Forgets to use his noggin, does he?" Paz asked, "That's not like him." Cara could hear the frown and narrowing eyes in his voice.

"If you had a foundling of your own you'd understand." Din defended, his metal face somehow managing to look annoyed and vaguely offended.

Cara slapped a hand down on Din's shoulder, "Yeah, that little green bean makes his head go a bit wonky."

Paz snorted.

"What?" Cara asked.

"As if the child doesn't do the same to you? I'm not blind," Paz said, "You sprung up quick as Din did when you heard his cry."

_Fair point._

Cara felt a tug on her pants leg and glanced down to see Grogu a hand on her, and a hand in the air. The bacta patch had come loose in his play and was hanging by one side. Kneeling, Cara helped re-stick the patch and sent the little one on his way.

* * *

Paz continued his stories, Din occasionally offering his input to correct gross exaggerations, and Cara was fascinated. She was decently confident Din had said more words tonight than she'd heard from him in all the times she'd flown with him put together. She'd have to drink with him more often, now that she knew there was a way to. Honestly, she wasn't sure why he hadn't just asked for a straw all those times they'd been in cantinas. He could have had broth with Grogu, or spotchka with her. There really was nothing to stop him, but still, he hadn't. Cara wondered what made the difference.

Somewhere along the line, Cara began telling a story of her own, of Alderaan, and it soon grew as many enraptured listeners as Paz's had, including Paz himself. Although she wasn't quite as good of a story teller as Paz, the story was new, and When it came to a close, the foundlings erupted with questions about her home world's culture and fighting style, along with questions about herself. How old is Cara? Does she have any siblings?

"I never had any brothers or sisters." Cara's memories turned bitter-sweet at the thought of her family, "Before they died, I imagine my parents thought I was handful enough."

"The armorer said that I had a big brother once, but he died when I was a baby so it's okay if I don't remember him." A foundling volunteered, "Maybe you did have a brother or sister and you just don't remember them!"

Cara smiled at the child. "I'm afraid that's not the case for me. I was plenty old enough to remember my family."

"Oh."

After a few more stories and a lot more play, the music's tone suddenly changed to something both somber and hopeful. Cara saw the foundlings scurry down from the stairs and towards the fire. The rest of the mandalorians followed suit, albeit more slowly.

"What's going on?" Cara grabbed Din's shoulder and stopped him as he began to walk away.

"It's time for the _darasuum."_

"The what?"

"The eternal."

Din led her to the fire and knelt, much in the same way he had when they'd seen the armorer, palms face down, gently resting on each knee. The only difference was that this time he removed his gloves and discarded them in a neat pile next to him. Cara knelt aside him, joining the growing group of mandalorians that lined the fire on both sides.

When all were present, the last of the music stopped, and the elders joined at the head of the fire.

Din bowed his head, Cara copied, but slightly at an angle, looking for instruction.

The elders' combined voices rang above crackle of the flames.

" _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar_ darasuum."

"I am still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal." Din whispered the translation. " _Mando'ade_ believe that when we say the names of those we've lost, we've found them in ourselves."

Cara couldn't help but peek up as she heard dozens of voices in as many languages, first copying the words of the elder, then speaking the names of those gone before. Some had only a few names to list, but some seemed to continue on forever.

"Repeat after me." Din said, " _Ni su'cuyi..."_

Cara chose to ignore the fact that she was butchering the pronunciation, and repeated him best she could. When they had finished, she heard Din begin to recite his names in his native tongue. She'd never heard him speak it before. It fit him, somehow, in ways she couldn't explain. She felt she could almost see him now, better than she had before, despite not knowing where one name ended and another began.

"Your turn."

Cara felt a bit put on the spot, but she began to say the names, starting with her cousins, aunts, and uncles, slowly coming closer to those she knew more intimately. Her family, well... they weren't something she tried to think of often, let alone speak of. But now - now the memories rained down upon her, first in sprinkles, then slowly increasing until they hailed relentlessly. The taste of the air on Alderaan, the view of the mountains in the distance, the feeling of her father's hand in hers... and the sound of her name on her mother's lips. Cara's voice caught painfully in her throat, and for the first time since she'd seen Din on the brink of death back at the cantina, she felt heat rush her face, adjoined by a slight wetness in the corners of her eyes that she would never willingly admit to.

Her mother's voice was still there, whispering to her the joyful times of her youth. The bittersweet memories she'd sacrificed in her attempt to forget the demons that surrounded her.

She could feel Din's eyes on her, and she looked up to meet him. In the light of the fire, she could see the outline of his eyes beneath the visor.

When she spoke again, her voice was steady and her mind was anything but.

"Din I don't think-"

Din slid a little closer to her, voice low.

"In your time," he said, "you've already made it further than most."

* * *

It took a bit, but Cara made it through the names while managing to keep an acceptable level of dignity intact. Her voice waivered on the names, but it never broke. Everyone remained knelt as others continued through their names. It was obvious, Cara realized, to tell which losses were fresh and which had settled in their place. Not all the Mandalorians bothered to hide their grief, as she had done. She could hear the tremors in their voices, especially the foundlings, as their lists went on, and on, and on...

Everyone here had lost someone. A lot of someones, most of them. But eventually, the voices quieted. They remained seated a moment, before the elders again spoke.

" _Val oyacyir jorcu vi oyacyir. Oya!"_

The rest of the covert, stood, responding with a passionate "Oya!"

Cara didn't ask Din what this meant. She felt their tone made it clear enough. Soon, the music returned, jovial and lively again, as the Mandalorians lined up to receive the stew that had been bubbling away over the fire all evening. Each of them got a decently large serving in a tin bowl, then left the room. Cara presumed they were heading to their enclaves to eat.

Din filled a smaller bowl and handed it down to Grogu who wasted no time in slurping it up.

"Bed time, kid."

* * *

Later, once Grogu was tucked safely away with the other foundlings, Cara and Din neared their enclaves and prepared to go their separate ways. But Cara had one last question.

"I'd always assumed that Mandalorians had some sort of rule against drinking."

"That's certainly a gross inaccuracy."

"Well, I know that now." Cara rolled her eyes, "But I was wondering, how come you never drank with me? There were times you certainly needed a drink or two."

"Mandalorians do drink," Din confirmed, "But we never drink to forget. We drink to remember."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, that first bit was kind of gross. Very dialog heavy, and that's never my strong suit. Forgive me for the graven sin of too many dialog tags. It's always easier when there's only two people talking, but throw a third in and things get complicated quick and it's hard to keep track of who's saying what without constant tags. I don't know. Maybe I'll figure out a better way to do it someday.
> 
> Then later though! Such an emotional scene, I was literally tearing up as I wrote it. I'd never really bought the idea of Mandalorians being emotionally stunted, it always seemed to me that such a rag tag family would have developed ways of processing their grief because they've all definitely got problems to work through. You can't just ignore those feelings and expect to still be a functional being. So of course the Mandalorians, being family focused as they are, would work through them together. Different bodies, but one soul.
> 
> Also, wasn't actually aware of this myself until now, but apparently this is an AU where the covert was never destroyed after the Cantina. It was attacked, but no one who attacked it made it out alive. They managed to throw off the imps' trail, and they are once again (relatively) safe there.
> 
> Val oyacyir jorcu vi oyacyir. = They live because we live.
> 
> Oya! = (literally translated "let's hunt!" or "Stay alive!"), but most commonly used as an expression of enthusiasm and solidarity. Similar to "hooah!" for the military.)


	7. Karabast.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Din is an idiot. Cara agrees.

_Karabast._

He felt it before he even opened his eyes.

"Din!"

Someone called his name again, but his still sleepy brain couldn't quite place it.

Something wasn't quite right. He was slow to wake this morning.

"Din! Put that bucket on so I can come in."

Ah, Cara. Definitely Cara.

"Paz told me to tell you to 'get your _'sharal sheb'ika'_ up,' whatever that means. _"_

With a mild mumble of annoyance, Din blindly made a grab for his helmet, but immediately abandoned the movement when he felt a stinging tug along his rib cage.

_Dank Ferrik._

Sucking in a breath, he tugged his tunic up a bit, noting the mottle of deep purple and blue that covered his left side.

He'd been right. It really had been an idiotic idea to spar Cara, and similarly idiotic had it been for him to forgo a second round of bacta patches in favor of going to bed. In his defense, when dinner had finally finished, he'd been wiped. The events of the day had begun to catch up to him around the time of the _darasuum,_ and from then on he could hardly keep his eyes open. He'd been thankful it didn't show through his beskar.

Carefully, Din propped his elbows up behind him, attempting to do something half way between sitting up and sliding off the cot. Every hint of movement sent a jolt of agony down his side. Once he'd made it to a seated position, he took a moment to keep his breaths measured. What he tried next, most anyone could tell you was ill-advised. With a pained gasp, he quickly bent over and snatched his helmet from the floor. Better a quick, sharp pain, than a lasting dull one.

"Din?"

Apparently his swear had made it to the land of the living this time.

"You can come in." he said, helmet now in place.

Cara popped past the curtain and into the room. She stood in front of him, just staring for a moment.

"You look like a pile of banthacrap."

Din didn't answer, in part because he wasn't sure what response she was looking for, but also because breathing without causing himself pain seemed task enough at the moment.

Cara's eyes narrowed at his lack of answer, and Din resisted the urge to sigh. He definitely didn't need to be doing that at the moment.

" 'must've stiffened up from yesterday." he mumbled. He was thankful for the voice modulator in his helmet. It sturdied his voice and made him sound at least a little less pathetic.

"Come on you _di'kut_ , you'll be fine. Breakfast is waiting."

Din huffed upon hearing the Mando'a word roll off her tongue, it was just like her to learn the insults first. He'd bet Paz had a hand in that.

Cara turned to leave, but paused when Din didn't follow.

He'd made an attempt, he really had. And it was so stupid, because he'd done far more arduous tasks with far more incapacitating injuries. But he'd done those things with a certain very important, all consuming chemical surging through his veins which was noticeably absent at the moment: adrenaline.

* * *

He'd looked rough, of course, but that was nothing new, really. Cara genuinely didn't think it that big of a problem. She was a bit stiff herself; battles tended to do that to you. But when Din barely made a half-hearted attempt to stand, arm wrapped tightly over his ribs, she knew it was worse than he was letting on.

"I thought it was a fake during the match?" Cara asked, turning back to him.

"So did I." he grumbled. Usually the modulator took out most of his tone, but it was clearly dripping with annoyance this time.

Cara stood beside him as he made another attempt to stand, and this time she was near to steady him. His neck had gone pale, and the hand that wasn't wrapped around his side tremored slightly, compelling her to keep hold of him rather than release her grip.

"kriffin' hurts." Din hissed through what Cara imagined were clenched teeth.

"Let's get you back to the med bay."

To her surprise and concern, Din didn't protest, instead allowing her to steer him towards the enclave's doorway. Cara paused, glancing to the left and right, before muttering,

"All your karking hallways look the same."

"Left." Din released his arm from her hand, trudging forward, still minorly curled in on himself.

_For a group that values family, they sure are an independent bunch._

Cara was annoyed at his dismissal of her help, but he was looking a bit better now that he was standing. It seemed getting up initially had been the bigger problem, walking didn't jostle the ribs so much. That was until they got to the stairs, of course. By all appearances those had been a nightmare for him. The wall and railing appeared to be keeping him up about as much as his legs did. Luckily, the stair case was short and it was over soon enough. Didn't stop him from uttering an imaginatively arranged string of swears in the process. Din wasn't usually one to curse much beyond the occasional "dank ferrik," but when he did swear, he did so _colorfully_.

"Maybe keep it down?" Cara hissed, spying a foundling in the distance that had been attracted by the kerfuffle. Din followed her gaze before dully returning his focus to the act of keeping his legs beneath him.

"They've heard worse... trust me," He muttered.

* * *

Upon Din and Cara's entrance, the woman _baar'ur_ approached. Sighing, the _baar'ur_ jerked a hand back and pointed to a cot before turning to one of the cabinets.

"Thought I might see you here again." she said, "I told you to rest for a reason."

Din had the good grace to look a little sheepish at least, but chose not to respond.

The _baar'ur_ returned, holding a small kit of supplies.

"Let's see it."

Din gingerly tugged his tunic up, revealing the damage.

"You let me spar you like that?!" Cara glanced the back of his helmet with a stinging slap. "You could have told me, you _di'kut_!"

It seemed that was Cara's favorite word now. To be fair, he did deserve it this time.

The _baar'ur_ shook her head, "The bruising wasn't this advanced yet; the bacta had delayed it. He couldn't have known."

Sorting through her supplies, the _baar'ur_ ordered him to sit.

She gently ran her fingers across his side, checking the progress of his healing, or rather, the lack of it. Once she had determined the extent of the damage, she returned to her supplies.

"Two are still cracked, the rest badly bruised. You must have slept curled; it seems to be the stiffness that's giving you the most pain, since it happens primarily when your abdomen is shifted. Bacta won't be of much use now, given the time since the initial injury. Best I can do is wrap them to decrease risk of further injury. You _will_ rest. You'll not be lifting anything heavier than your foundling for several days, and you'll remain without your armor for the same." The _baar'ur's_ order clearly left no room for compromise. "Cara, help him remove his tunic."

Cara looked to Din who silently nodded his permission as he began to unlace the top. Carefully, she helped him pull it over his head, pausing at times to allow him to adjust his arms when their positioning tugged on his ribs. Once the shirt was off, it occurred to her that she'd never seen much of Din's skin, leastwise, not while he wasn't bleeding out. She was glad to have confirmation that, as she had suspected, he was human. It would make treating any future injuries less difficult to know his anatomy was roughly the same as her own. His skin was darker than she'd imagined, given that it had been hidden behind beskar all these years. He must have been born to a desert planet.

* * *

The medic went about her work, securely binding his ribs. Her hands were soft but strong; clearly, she was not one to sacrifice the quality of her work for the comfort of the patient. She did pause for a moment though when Din stopped his pained grunts, realizing his lack of response wasn't due to a lack of discomfort, but rather an excess of it. In her frustration with his lack of care of his body, she hadn't been quite as considerate to his comfort as she could have been. He was still with them, she could tell, but his mind had gone dull and his limbs gone weak as the binding tightly pressed the cracked ribs into place.

"Din?"

Cara had noticed it too.

Once the _baar'ur_ had paused, it took only a moment for Din to regain himself.

"I'm fine." He shifted uncomfortably, knowing the medic wasn't yet done. "Let's just get it over with."

After a few more wraps and then tying the cloth off tightly, the _baar'ur_ considered him for a moment.

"I won't give you a pain reliever." the medic declared, "Given, your actions last night, it appears you need a reminder not to move."

It was a jerk move, to be sure, but it would keep him from injuring himself further.

Cara helped Din replace the tunic, now realizing why all Mandalorian shirts were laced up the front. It allowed them to switch out their clothes without removing their helmet. That would be quite the useful trick in a battle-zone. Lacing by clan design had it's purpose as well. It would make it easier to identify the dead, given they couldn't recognize each other by face.

"To the kitchens with both of you." The medic ordered. "You must replenish your strength to mend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite honestly this chapter was a bit of a placeholder while I figure out where to go from here. Not a lot of plot, just some Cara-Din bonding. That, and Din whump is fun. Buuut... I figured it out, and I actually know what I'm doing for the next chapter! Adios!
> 
> sharal sheb'ika = lazy butt
> 
> darasuum = the eternal
> 
> baar'ur = medic


	8. Hetikles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast time in the Covert.

As the _baar'ur_ had said, a big portion of the pain had simply been stiffness, and now that Din had moved around some and got his blood flowing, he was fine. Moving slower than normal, certainly, but he didn't appear to be in danger of keeling over - for which both he and Cara were grateful.

Approaching the kitchens, Cara's nose detected a familiar smell followed up by a less familiar one. Meiloorun and... what is it with Mandalorians and their spices? Was that chili? on a meiloorun? Further inspection revealed that it was indeed a massive bowl of fruit salad that was thoroughly coated in a spice and honey mixture.

It looked... Interesting, to be sure

"Here." Din handed her two bowls and another eating apparatus she was unfamiliar with. It appeared to be something halfway between a spoon and a fork. She had noticed it last night, but had been hungry enough when she made it back to her enclave that she hadn't thought much about it and just dug in. Speaking of which...

Cara felt her stomach growl, and given that Din glanced her way, she could tell it was audible as well.

"I genuinely don't understand how most of your people are as big as they are if they only eat one bowl of soup for dinner and fruit salad for breakfast."

"We don't really have set mealtimes, except for dinner." Din explained, "and even dinner... it's more about the regathering of _aliit_ than the food."

"So how-"

Din shrugged. "Food is made up each morning, and kitchen is always open. It's not really realistic for us to eat in large groups, so we just eat whenever we're hungry. Helps keep things from crowding."

Cara heard Din rumbling around the refrigeration unit as she spooned the salad into bowls. Whatever he was looking for must have been a ways in there; she was done by the time he finally pulled his head out of the unit, bonking his helm against the door to close it. Given the chipped and worn paint of the door, it appeared Din wasn't the only one to close it that way.

He set down a jug of nerf milk, a jar of honey, and a vial of vanilla before marching off in pursuit of his next ingredient. Returning shortly, he set a small jar that he had retrieved onto the counter.

"What's that?" Cara asked, unfamiliar with the powdery brown substance. She knew Din had a stash of it on his ship, because the kid liked it. She hadn't known he liked it too.

"It's called cinnamon. It's from Terran."

Din went to work, combining the ingredients in a small pan and heating them over the stove. It wasn't long before they were thoroughly mixed. He poured it into two large mugs and then a smaller one.

Cara heard a coo in the distance, and glanced over to see Grogu standing in the doorway, his little nose sniffing the air as he approached.

"You could smell it from the foundling's hall, huh buddy?" Cara took Grogu into her arms, and handed him the little mug. "Careful, it's hot."

Grogu looked at her with wide eyes before cautiously taking a sip. Apparently he decided it was cool enough, because he proceeded to down it all in one go the sip after. He babbled something akin to a thank you, then pointed to the ground.

"Well that was quick." Cara set him down, staring off in wonder as he toddled back towards the door.

"Lots to do here. Plenty of friends - when he's not levitating them."

Cara detected a hint of pride in Din's voice.

"Eat with me?" Din asked.

"And how exactly would I do that?" Cara accepted the bowl and mug in his waiting hands, but was confused about the logistics of things.

"Oh, uh-" Din pointed to a few strips of fabric that lined the walls. "Those. We use them when we want to eat with others."

Approaching one of the sets of fabric, Din took hold of it and clipped it to a little hook that hung from the ceiling of the room. Another piece of fabric had them enclosed in a neat little square tent, out of eyeshot from the room.

"Sit."

Cara was still enormously confused, but sat cross legged in the middle of the tent, looking out at the curtain.

"Scoot over, I need room too."

Cara shuffled both herself and her food forwards, and she felt Din sit down heavily behind her, facing away, his back resting against hers.

So this is how they did it. Hearing a click and a hiss, she knew Din had removed his helmet. Cara heard him begin to chow down on the fruit, seemingly unfazed by the whole situation. She'd never even been in the room when he'd had his helmet off before, and it was strange to feel his bare head brush against the back of hers as he took another bite.

Well, if it was okay with him, it was okay with her.

Cara took a bite of the fruit and was instantaneously reminded that, like the soup from last night, it was spiced almost to inedibility. Key word _almost_. As she ate more and adjusted, the dish grew on her. The warm milk helped calm it, despite being thoroughly spiced in its own right.

"Is all Mando'ade food this kriffin' spicy?" She asked.

"Pretty much."

And there it was.

Cara had never given much thought to Din's voice before. She'd always known the modulator must affect it, of course, but she hadn't thought it would to this extent. His voice was soft, and while not quite smooth, the raspy tone to it had lessened enormously. But it was still the same voice. It reeked of the kindness that she'd long knew was in him, but he rarely let out.

A thought wormed it's way through her head, and she couldn't help but grin.

"The modulator, you _have_ to use it, don't you?"

Given his lack of response and the way he shoved another mouthful of food into him, she knew it was true, and couldn't help but chuckle. She'd noticed last night that there were many Mandalorians that didn't use modulators, including Paz. Obviously, that meant it wasn't something they were required to do.

Din, as it turns out, is so soft spoken that his voice would never make it through the beskar unless he consciously put forth the effort to speak up.

She couldn't help but wonder how many times he had been going to say something, but had forgotten to turn up the volume and was never heard.

"Made training hard when I was young," Din finally replied, "my voice didn't carry well enough during the ambush drills, so the armorer fixed up the modulator. It was easier, ' just became habit after that."

Cara chuckled some more, but stopped when she felt Din stiffen against her.

"You're laughing at me?" he sounded a bit defensive.

"No, no! It's fine. It's all fine." Cara said, "Just a cute image. Baby Din walking around in that giant bucket while talking into a megaphone."

Cara could halt her laughter, but the grin remained sewn to her face.

"...It's not a megaphone."

"But it makes you louder, doesn't it?"

Din gave a huff before shoving more meiloorun into his mouth again. It was quiet a minute, and both were nearly done with their meals when someone spoke again.

"Okay, back to the whole 'who the kark puts chili on fruit' thing?" Cara said, "I mean, I'll admit, it's not half bad. But seriously? Who thought of this?"

Din hummed in acknowledgement, taking time to swallow before responding.

"It's called _hetikles_."

"That just a fancy Mando word for meiloorun?"

"Mando'a, and no, it's not the fruit." Din sighed, "Here, take a big bite, chew it up, swallow it, and then take a deep breath."

Cara did as told.

"Feel that? In your mouth? Nose? Throat?"

Cara nodded, feeling the stark heat swirl through her sinuses.

"That's _hetikles._ That feeling is." Din began to gather up his dishes. "It's a... something prized by Mando'ade. There are few dishes we make without it."

" _We_ make? You mean you cook?"

"All Mando'ade cook."

Cara heard the hiss of Din's helmet.

"Wouldn't have thought that, given the state of the kitchen on the Crest."

"I said all of them can do it," Din's voice came louder this time, the rasp having returned, "I never said all of them are good at it."

Now confident that Din had replaced the helm, Cara stood and offered Din a hand up, who gratefully accepted it with his other arm wrapped tightly to his midsection. They managed it with little struggle, and soon enough their little cloth tent hung flat against the wall, and they made their way back to the kitchen.

Din stripped his gloves off, and cleaned off his dishes in the sink, Cara doing the same right afterwards.

"We probably ought to go see what Paz wanted." Cara dried her hands, "I was gonna let you sleep, but he wanted you for something."

Din hummed his acknowledgement.

"Din?"

"Yeah?"

"What does ' _sharal sheb'ika'_ mean?"

Din sighed. "Just ask Paz."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe... Cara's totally going to use that phrase once she finds out the meaning.
> 
> sharal sheb'ika = lazy butt (except a little bit stronger connotation)


	9. 3 Rules Foundlings Must Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz asks Cara something, and Din ends up in a game he never agreed to.

"Finally, vod!" Paz exclaimed, upon Din and Cara's entrance. "Took you long enough."

"What was it you need?"

"We're a man down for the hunt tonight. I was going to ask you to join, but I happened to run into the _baar'ur_ on my way here..." Paz crossed his arms, giving Din a once over, "Bacta didn't work?"

"He didn't give it time to." Cara rolled her eyes.

"Hmm. Rest up. We need you back at full _kot_ ," Paz's glance shifted to Cara, and he translated, "full strength."

It was silent a moment, and Din could hear the cogs turning in Paz's head before Paz could himself.

"Can you handle a pulse rifle?" Paz sent a questioning nod in Cara's direction.

"You're joking, right?" Cara raised an eyebrow. After she received no response, "Yes, of course I can."

Paz looked to Din, who confirmed her proficiency with a single nod.

"Alright then," Paz conceded, "Up for a hunt?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Din spent the remainder of the day entertaining the younger foundlings while Cara, Paz, and the others prepped for the hunt. And he was sour about it. He'd much rather be suiting up with them than be stuck on baby sitting duty. It wasn't even as though he had to do much. Mando'ade children had few restrictions regarding their play. The restrictions they did have could be boiled down into 3 simple rules.

1\. Never kill _or_ maim fellow Mando'ade

2\. Never _purposefully_ damage the covert or yourself

3\. Never expose yourself: do not leave the covert or remove your helmet/covering.

Other than that, anything was up for grabs. Obviously they must be obedient and respectful to their elders, but those situations were handled as needed.

So Din watched the foundlings just enough to ensure they didn't kill themselves or someone else, but other than that, he just sat impatiently at the end of the great room as people bustled about, despising the feeling of uselessness. Despite knowing better, he poked at his ribs to check their tenderness, mildly wishing that he had Grogu's gift and could just heal himself.

Speaking of Grogu...

Din's head popped up, realizing he hadn't heard much out of that particular _adiik_ for awhile.

" _Ad'ika?_ "

A dozen heads popped towards him, wondering why they'd been called.

He'd have to remember he couldn't just call the kid that now. There would be quite a lot of confusion if he did.

"Not you," Din stood and brushed past them. "Where's Grogu?"

The foundlings looked among themselves for the tiny green face, then, realizing it wasn't present, broke into an chatter of where and when he'd been last seen.

Din, meanwhile, was semi-frantically searching high and low for the kid. After scouring the whole of the great room, he was just about to admit defeat and call Paz or Cara for backup when he heard a gurgle off to his far left. Which was really something, considering he'd looked there quite thoroughly already.

"Grogu?"

A coo in response.

They continued their game of Marco-polo, Din calling Grogu's name and hearing a coo in response, until Din realized the _adiik_ had managed to climb into a set of drawers and some how push the drawer shut with himself inside it.

Din opened the drawer, removing the foundling from inside.

"You can't run off like that." he scolded, "It's not safe."

Again, just a confused coo in response.

Din sighed, and set the kid on the ground, watching him toddle back to the other children.

Unfortunately, the other children had thought the whole situation quite amusing. It wasn't long before a game of stealth was in order. Stealth was a game much like hide and seek, only the goal of the game was to see who could get closest to Din without being detected. It was quite the chore, considering Din was moving near constantly, trying to corral the children back into the more easily visible areas of the room.

The foundlings always loved to mess with him. He wasn't around very often, and it was well known that Din was the best in the covert when it came to stealth. This meant he was also one of the best at finding people, so getting past him made for a real challenge.

Had Din been aware the game was going on, he might have played along - but it seemed the foundlings had forgotten to tell him. To him, they were simply running off in all directions and disappearing, only to pop up again in the strangest of places. It wasn't long before frustration sat in, and Din just stopped and paused in the middle of the room, running a hand over his helm. Suddenly he felt a presence behind him that nearly made him jump, and had it not been for his hearing the quiet clink of leather against skin, he might have. He spun, catching the foundling under the arms, holding him tightly, wishing the _adiik_ could see his glare. When he released the foundling, it clicked. He realized he'd been duped, tricked into a game of stealth, just as he and Paz had done to the armorer and the _baar'ur_ all those years ago.

He observed the foundlings with a new perspective now.

_Okay... You want competition? You'll get competition._

* * *

Soon, through a series of tricks and clever environmental manipulations, Din had the foundlings cornered into the back-right fourth of the room. There was no way for them to get out of it without his knowing, so the foundlings switched tactics to hiding best they could. Din then proceeded to eliminate their possibilities of concealment one by one until the foundlings simply just had to scramble away or around him as he came close. This continued for several minutes before Din realized there were simply too many foundlings and not enough Dins for him to win. This was an issue that couldn't be solved by cleverness alone.

No... he needed a tool.

Din glanced around, searching for the oldest of the foundlings and snatched the wiggling thing by the arm, thereby gaining control of the foundling's shiny new vambrace. The foundlings watched in dismay as he stood along the wall and aimed the vambrace into the corner, firing a few grappling lines at different elevations. Despite their initial confusion, it only took the foundlings a few moments to realize what Din's plan was.

Now he would win.

Din simply grabbed the foundling's vambrace, ropes still attached, holding it tightly enough the foundling couldn't get away. He walked quickly towards the other wall of the room, trapping the foundlings in an increasingly small space. By the time he reached the other wall, the foundlings were all pressed up against it, unable to escape.

Smirking beneath his helmet, Din simply walked along the wall, back to the corner, shoving the foundlings into the center of the ropes, enclosing them in a circle. He pushed the last foundling in, the one who's vambrace he'd commandeered, before cutting the ropes and tying them back to their other end which was thoroughly rooted in the stone walls.

All done. Foundlings contained.

Din settle back down on the stairs, watching with fondness as the foundlings struggled to escape the ropes that bound them, but were pressed so close together that it was impossible to do much wriggling. He let them try. It was good training for them.

_Din - 1, foundlings - nada._

* * *

Cara, Paz, and another Mandalorian stepped out of the Covert and into blistering darkness of the halls and alleys that led to it. The path was illuminated by the light of Paz's helm just enough that they wouldn't run into a wall.

"Here." The Mandalorian, whom Cara now knew as Thravaa, handed her one of the cloth masks the women had worn in the bathhouse, the type that veiled the eyes.

"What's this for?"

"For you." Paz said, "People have no business where we're going."

"And that relates to this... how?"

"It means if I see eyeballs I'm putting a bullet between 'em," Thravaa shoved the mask at her, "And it'd be a shame if those eyes belonged to you, sweetheart."

Cara had known there were mandalorians that weren't fond of her presence in the covert, and apparently Thravaa was one of them. There weren't many, but Cara found it comforting to know that the ones who wanted nothing to do with her were at least blunt about it. She would rather they spat words dripping with condescension than hum honeyed lies. At least this way, she knew where she stood.

"Fine." She took the mask and pulled it on, wrapping the ties around her face as she'd seen on the children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of who think Din has been a little OOC through out this, I agree, but it's completely purposeful. In the show, we never get to see him in the Covert much, and when we do, someone is either angry at him or he's severely injured and has just lost most of his people. In this fic, he feels safe. He feels comfortable. Relatively relaxed, because he knows he's got his people backing him. And that's not really something we've seen him be in the show yet. So of course he seems OOC, he spends the majority of the show stressed out and on high alert. In this, you're finally seeing him calm. Well, as calm as can be expected with Grogu and a dozen foundlings antagonizing him. XD
> 
> For the darasuum scene, I wasn't satisfied with the way I described things. What I was trying to point out with this is that the darasuum is the mando'ade's primary time of emotional connectivity with others - it's the only time they allow themselves to truly grieve, to be emotionally vulnerable, and they support each other through it. I wanted to promote a sense of familial intimacy. There's a sense of unity there during that time that can't really be felt elsewise. I don't know. It doesn't quite read how I'd imagined it. Ah, the struggles of a writer.


	10. Because When Does Anything Ever Go to Plan?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things begin to go wrong.

"So who's our target?"

"Not who, _what_." Paz shook his head, "You've spent too much time with Din."

Upon Cara's confused silence, Paz continued.

"What? You think we buy meat in the market each week? Like we'd waste credits on that." Paz adjusted the rifle sling on his shoulder. "No, we're after qartuum."

"Qartuum?" Cara raised an eyebrow, an image of the goat-like creature coming to mind. "You send three mandos to down a qartuum? Don't you think that's a little overkill?"

"Doesn't take three of us to down them, _aruetii_." Thravaa hissed, "It takes three of us to carry 'em back. If you haven't noticed, we're a little low on those fancy speeders _your_ _kind_ tends to keep around."

" _My kind_... What's that supposed to mean?" Cara matched his tone, and they stood nose to nose, or rather buy'ce to nose.

" _Luubid_." Paz suddenly pushed Thravaa back from his near predatory stance before Cara, and up against the wall. " _Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?_ V _i r'hibirar, ba'jurir ibic verd, nayc takisir. Tayli'bac?"_

 _"A-"_ Thravaa broke out into a protest, but Paz slamming him against the wall, cutting him off before he got a full word out.

 _"Tayli'bac?"_ Paz repeated.

" _Elek, al'verde."_ The words were spat, and Cara knew Thravaa still wasn't a fan of whatever he was agreeing to.

Paz released Thravaa, who re-adjusted the pulse rifle on his back. Turning to the both of them, Paz spoke again.

"We're here to work together. If you can't do that head back now."

Receiving no response, they began again down the stone hallways. At some point, Thravaa trompped off ahead, grumbling to himself, leaving only Paz near Cara.

Cara wasn't sure exactly what Paz had said to Thravaa, and she knew that Paz had intended it that way. It certainly sounded like a rebuke. The ease with which Paz lifted the other from the stone floor only served to emphasize the man's frame. Paz may be nothing short of a teddy bear to the foundlings back at the covert, but clearly he reserved a special side of him for threats.

* * *

"I can handle myself, you know." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. From a ticked off sounding shock-trooper.

"I know." Paz's helm only turned slightly towards her.

"Then why didn't you let me?"

"This is neither the time nor the place for that." Paz said, "The more noise we make out here the greater the danger to the covert - I couldn't be sure how far you two would escalate things, so I didn't give you chance to. And given both your reactions, I'm glad I didn't."

"Oh."

They walked in silence for awhile before Cara spoke again.

"I didn't mean to put your people in danger."

The words implied the "I'm sorry" that she was just a little too proud to say.

"Shh..." Paz hushed her, whispering, "We're coming up on the entrance."

Cara fell silent behind him, tightly gripping her blaster as Thravaa exited.

Once they received the 'all clear' sign, Paz and Cara stepped out and followed.

Both the moon and sun were up, creating a twilight that made for some perfect shadows to hide in as they trekked across the rocky terrain. Cara could hear the crowds in the town moving about, shutting up their businesses before returning to their homes for the evening. It gave them enough cover noise that they could keep a decent pace without worrying they'd be heard.

"Where exactly are we going?"

"Lava flats," Paz said, "The qartuum like to sleep there at night for its warmth."

Sure enough, upon reaching the flats, they saw a heard of qartuum stretched out along a distant bank.

"We need 3." Thravaa pointed down to the herd, "Any more, we won't be able to carry them all, leaving evidence we've been here. Any less, and we'll have to make another hunt, which means greater chance of getting caught."

"Their vision sucks, but they've got the best ears in the galaxy. Stay hidden, stay quiet." Paz instructed, "Once they hear a shot, they'll bolt. Near impossible to hit once running."

* * *

A Mandalorian, barely old enough to have sworn the creed ran up to Din holding one of Din's vambraces which gave off a low beep.

"I heard it as I walked past."

_Dank Ferrick._

Din leapt to his feet, accepting the vambrace with a muttered thanks as he sprinted off towards his enclave. Heavily colliding with Faik in the corridor, she stopped him.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" she asked, "I thought you were watching the foundlings?"

"They're in trouble."

"Who's in trouble?"

"Cara and Paz."

* * *

Cara wasn't entirely sure when the hunt had gone to kriff, but it was probably right around the time the reptavian showed up. The double winged, poisonous creature didn't seem like it was going to be much a problem at first - until the rest of the flock followed it. Three of these things had been enough to down Greef and nearly down Din, and now they had somewhere in the neighborhood of a dozen to contend with.

They didn't move a muscle at first, willing the creatures not to notice them. At first, the reptavians just circled the quartuums. It appeared they were simply on a hunt themselves. After hearing nothing, Paz slowly peeked out from behind their cover.

And that was all it took.

The reptavians were upon them now, shrieking as they flew, closer and closer with each pass.

They were in trouble. No doubt about it.

* * *

Din walked swiftly as he explained the situation to Faik. "The foundlings are tied up in the great room, I need you to watch them."

"Surely someone else can-"

"Anyone they meet at this time of night is bad news, we need surprise on our side." Din said, "I've got the best chance of dropping in unnoticed."

"But you're still hurt-" Faik protested, "You're not even supposed to be wearing beskar."

"I'll be fine."

_I hope._

In truth, he was still sore. Certainly better than he had been this morning, but he could still feel the pull of his ribs as he tugged on his flight suit and fastened his cuirass.

It was fine. He would be fine.

And that's what he kept telling himself as he slipped out the covert door, pulse rifle strapped to his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe, so I just had a premonition of the eventually ending of this fic. Don't worry. I said eventual. There is PLENTY more where this came from. But I think I know what I'm going to do in the very last scene now. Also, sorry for the super short chapter, but it seemed like a natural stopping point. We get some action next chapter! Yayy!
> 
> "aruetii" = foreigner, outsider
> 
> "buy'ce" = Mando helmet
> 
> "Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod? Vi r'hibirar, ba'jurir ibic verd, nayc takisir. Tayli'bac?" = "Are you looking for a smack in the face, mate? We learned, educate this warrior, not insult. Got it?" (said quite agressively)
> 
> "Elek, al'verde." = Yes, commander.


	11. Me'vaar Ti Gar?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Din, Cara, and Paz are all awesome, and Thravaa doesn't entirely suck.

They were everywhere, and there was nothing she could do. She dove to one of the rock formations lining the valley, just barely out of reach of the creature's talons which scratched angerly at the rock surrounding her. She couldn't escape, she'd been knocked to the ground and disarmed by the beast. It had been all she could do to scramble to cover. Then a screech rang out and the reptavian dropped dead and disintegrated from existence. There was only one person she knew with a disrupter rifle like that.

Cara took the opening to retrieve her pulse-rifle, blaster, and maneuver herself into a more useful position. She heard another cry of a reptavian and saw a flash of blue light in the corner of her eye.

_Din's sniping them from above._

In retrospect, they'd been incredibly unwise to enter the valley. They had done so only to mitigate risk of one of them missing a shot and then have all the quartuum run off after being scared by the noise. It made sense at the time, but now she couldn't regret it more. To be fair, the quartuum were still around, trapped in the valley by the swarming reptavian.

Thravaa had gotten himself into a bit of a situation, pinned by one of the monsters while Paz proceeded to try beating it off of him. A well placed blaster bolt to the head settled that issue quite neatly. Cara made a run for it across the valley and helped Paz heave the limp reptavian off of Thravaa, who quickly scrambled off the ground.

Sometime during their struggle, Din had picked off another three. Six to go.

* * *

Click. Click. Nothing.

He frantically fumbled about his belt, checking every pocket he could find.

 _Dank Ferrik_.

He's out of disrupter charges. There hadn't been time to stop by the Crest and restock.

Din slung the rifle to his back, hauling himself out of prone and booked it towards the valley, blaster in each hand.

Reptavians were quick little buggers when they flew - it was hard to hit them unless they were eating someone, and well... that simply wouldn't do. One of his bolts caught a creature in the wing, grounding it, but more importantly, _angering_ it. Definitely not what his goal had been. The reptavian lunged for him, claws first, and Din dropped to the ground and tucked into roll beneath it. There was a reason lunges were never a good idea - Cara had remined him of that last night.

Before he could put a bolt in its back, it had turned and advanced again and Din scrambled backwards, desperately trying to put some space between them. Once you were under their talons, you didn't get out. Not without help, and given that Cara, Paz, and Thravaa stood back to back, blasters to the sky, he didn't think it would come any time soon.

Distance it was.

On the ground, reptavians weren't so quick, and they definitely weren't coordinated. Quick changes in direction... Yeah, that could work. The reptavian lept at Din again, and he dove to the side. Momentum kept the reptavian moving forward, allowing Din time to put a bolt in its head as it scrambled to regain purchase on the rock.

Din sprinted to Cara, Paz, and Thravaa's huddle, joining them. They had managed to down two more, but the final three were giving them a go of it, weaving between their blaster bolts, even as they filled the sky.

"Nice of you to join us."

"Ran out of charges." Din replied, speaking above the blaster fire and screeching calls of the reptavians.

Thravaa's bolt met one in the chest and it went down. The other two were clearly not pleased with that.

In a second the reptivian were there, darting between them. Talons shrieked on beskar, and Din was knocked harshly against rock, breath gone and vision spinning.

* * *

When Din didn't move to get up, Cara yelled out, repeatedly bashing her blaster against her pauldron, trying to redirect the beast's attention. Thravaa caught her trail of thought and did the same, dividing the reptavian's attention.

Paz darted over to the dazed Din, dragging him by the strap to his cuirass and roughly tossing him behind the rock and out of sight of the remaining reptavian until he could get his feet beneath him. In the scuffle that ensued, Paz was relieved of his blaster and was left simply trying to dodge what blows he could and distract the beast until Cara and Thravaa could assist.

Which was unfortunate, because help wasn't coming any time soon.

Neither Cara nor Thravaa could get a clear shot at the reptavian for the life of them. Just as with Paz, it was almost as though the creature could feel the blaster being raised in its direction. You simply didn't have time to pull the trigger before it was after you and your full focus was required to evade its talons.

Put simply, they were kriffed.

Paz, Thravaa, and Cara were running out of steam fast and the reptavians seemed to have an endless supply of energy.

Two sounds happened in rapid succession.

One. Paz cried out as the reptavian caught him by the legs and pulled them out from beneath him, preparing to take off with the heavy mandalorian as an unwilling passenger.

Two. Two rapid blaster shots rang out - and then it was over.

Both Reptavians dropped bonelessly to the ground.

* * *

Din tucked his blaster back to holster as he moved to Paz.

" _Me'vaar ti gar?"_ Din stripped off his gloves and ran his hands along the lengths of Paz's legs and then arms, repeatedly checking his gloves for blood, of which he found quite a lot.

" _Shupur'yc."_ Paz ground out, pain clear in his voice despite attempt to hide it.

"You don't say."

The curved talons of the reptavian had found the edges of Paz's armor, shredding his flight suit, sinking into the tender skin and scratching at muscle of his legs. His arms were better off, just a few cuts here or there. Coming across a strangely shaped one, Din's hands stilled.

"What's wrong?" Paz glanced to the area before sucking a breath in. "Kriff."

"Check yourself for bites!" Din yelled out. Cara and Thravaa nodded in response.

Din hurriedly ripped a strip of fabric from the shredded leg of the flight suit. Paz tensed as Din tied the cloth tight as he could around Paz's upper arm, just above the bite, hopefully cutting off the poison from his blood stream.

After confirming that he himself had no bites or other serious wounds, Din looked to Cara and Thravaa who gave him an all clear. Neither of them had been bitten either.

"We've got to get him back." Din said, after running a scanner over Paz. The cuts on his legs were bad, but not life threatening. The poison on the other hand...

"You know we can't just leave all of these out there. It'll lead straight back to the covert." Thravaa protested, pointing out to the reptavian bodies littering the ground.

"I don't know how much time you think that tourniquet buys us, but it's not enough to clean all that up." Cara said, "He'll be dead long before we're done."

"Thravaa's right." Paz pushed himself into less slumped position with his good arm. "We can't risk the covert. If I die, sobeit."

A squabling broke out that they all knew there was no time for. Finally, Din, who had been silent to that point, broke in.

"No one is dying, but we're not risking the covert either..."

"How-" Thravaa started but Cara cut him off.

"How can I help?"

Din looked to Cara. "When I reloaded the disruptor rifle back on the crest, I handed the extra charges to you. What did you do with them?"

"We were in the cockpit, so I put them-" Then she understood. "My pocket." She dug into the pocket revealing a number of the blue capsules.

"Well those would have been handy earlier." Thravaa snorted.

"How many do we have?"

"Not enough." Thravaa said, "There'll still be one left even if we disintegrate the rest."

"Then you better be kriffin' thankful you're such a lousy shot." Din muttered under his breath, plugging the charges into the rifle.

* * *

Within a minute, four of the reptavian bodies were gone, disintegrated.

"What are we supposed to do with this one?"

Rather than responding to Thravaa's frankly idiotic question, Din hefted up the rather enormous bird and shoved it into Thravaa's arms.

Cara came trotting up, "We've got to go now. He's getting weaker."

Nodding, Din and Thravaa followed her back to Paz, who was clearly beginning to feel the poison's effects.

"Help me get him up." Din slung one of Paz's arms over his shoulders, and Cara did the same to the other. Together they hauled him to his feet, hearing a sharp intake of breath as Paz struggled to get his feet beneath him.

"Kark. Lay off the _uj_ cake, would you?"

Cara didn't quite catch the mumbled protest amongst the sound of their feet. "What?"

"He said it's not him, it's the armor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Paz. He's dying and they choose now to make fun of him. Anyway, there's our lovely action. What do you guys think? Do you prefer in depth description of the battle scenes, or would it be better to just skim the top and get straight to the consequences of it?
> 
> Me'vaar ti gar = essentially asking for a sitrep, (are you injured, if so, how?)
> 
> Shupur'yc = Injured
> 
> uj cake = spicy, delicious mandalorian cake that has nuts in it.


	12. K'atini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will warn you, those with sensitive stomachs may not care for parts of this chapter, as it gets quite intense at some points. Honestly, it's not super bad though. I just felt the need to tell you.

_"Haaranovor!"_

Cara's head shot toward Thravaa, the source of the word.

"What does that m-" Her question was cut off when Din instantly dropped, belly to the ground, pulling both Paz and Cara with him.

"We've got company."

"Where?" Cara asked.

Din slowly unslung his rifle and keeping it low to the ground brought the scope to his eyes. "There. 2 o'clock. Four, maybe five people."

Squinting into the distance, Cara made out what looked like the headlights of a speeder, but she couldn't make out much more than that.

"Looks like some townspeople saw the blaster fire." Thravaa pulled his rifle from his back as well.

"Think they saw us?" Din asked.

Thravaa didn't answer, scanning the surrounding area through the scope, then gave a slight shake of his head. "No, don't think so. They're still moving towards the valley. Probably just want to see what the fuss was about."

"Dank ferrik." Cara cursed to herself, "We're kriffing idiots."

"We should be fine." Thravaa said, "Didn't leave anything behind they could trace to us."

"We didn't leave anything behind _period_." Cara said, "That's the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"When they realize there's nothing to find, they're going to head back."

"So?"

"So those headlights are going to make that shiny beskar of yours turn you into a glow-worm." Cara said, "The moment those speeders get within range, we're done for. We have to move. Now."

* * *

Din's heart hammered in his chest, legs aching, and breaths coming quick. They'd picked up the pace after realizing Cara was right, and adrenaline shot through his body, torturing the edges of his mind with the fear that they might not be fast enough. Fear of what might happen to Paz if they were caught. He shoved the thoughts aside, refocusing on the task at hand.

Thravaa brought up the rear, the massive reptavian spread across his shoulders. Paz leaned heavily on both of them, stumbling on weak legs in a desperate attempt to help.

Din suspected the blood loss was starting to get him just as much as the poison. The rapid movement had increased the blood flow, and Paz bled freely down his torn calves, the droplets thankfully being absorbed by the flight suit. That was one less way for the townsmen to track them.

Paz let out a low groan, head sagging as Cara shifted his bad arm higher on her shoulders.

" _K'atini, vod. K'atini._ "

" _K'atini."_ Paz panted his response, little louder than a whisper.

Mando'a always fed easier to foggy minds, Din had found. Less to process, to translate. It worked, Paz brought his head back up, staring at the horizon ahead of them.

" _K'atini._ " Paz whispered, repeating it again and again as they moved at a pace just short of a jog. It was as fast as they could manage. It would be enough. It had to be.

* * *

Cara breathed a sigh of relief when the entrance to the covert's tunnels came within sight. Almost there. She heard Paz breathily repeating some Mando'a word, over and over, Din prompting him to continue when he stopped for too long. Paz was fading fast though, and his pauses increased in frequency and he seemed to weigh heavier on their shoulders with each step.

Once they finally made it through the entrance, the stairs downwards presented a challenge. Paz had stopped saying the word now - so had Din. Everyone was far too focused on putting one foot ahead of another to think of much else. Paz made an agonizing choking noise every time they jostled him a step downwards. Cara tried not to imagine the pain that would make a warrior strong as him react this way.

Three quarts down the stairs. Almost there. Paz's head was sagging now, legs shaking under the weight he carried.

_Just a little longer._

_Hold out a little longer..._

Paz dropped like a stone, suddenly limp against them, causing Cara to lose her grip on his arm. Breath catching in his lungs, Din nearly buckled under the unexpected full weight of him, and it sent him reeling to the side, falling harshly into the wall and the railing aside it. Cara hurriedly re-took her position and nudged them onwards. Din obediently followed her lead, stepping off, but she could tell something was off now. His foot steps were halting, hesitant, stumbling now and again as his direction swayed.

"Din?"

No answer.

"Din?" She tried again.

"K-keep moving." He stuttered on the word, mind not quite connecting with his mouth.

Cara saw his free arm hover over his midsection.

_Dank ferrik._

His ribs. She'd forgotten with Paz, and all else that had happened, but Din... he hadn't been well to begin with, and the way he'd just been knocked into the railing-

But it didn't matter. They had no choice. There was no way to know how much longer Paz had; every second counts.

"Go on ahead." Cara looked back over her shoulder, "Get them ready for us."

Thravaa, much to Cara's relief, didn't argue the point. Instead he shot ahead, weaving down the corridor with more speed than should be possible when carrying a reptavian that heavy. Clearly their pace had been making him antsy.

They continued down the hall, Cara trying to shift as much of Paz's weight to herself as she could, offering Din what she hoped was a chance to recover.

" _K'atini_." She butchered the pronunciation, she knew that much, and she still wasn't entirely sure what it meant. But the word seemed to have been of some comfort to Paz earlier, and she hoped it would have the same effect on Din. She was in luck.

" _K'atini._ " Din repeated, giving a slight nod, and shifting Paz higher on his shoulders. His steps steadied as he repeated the word. " _K'atini._ "

The halls seemed no less endless, than they had been in the past, Din tugging the three of them in the correct direction at every turn off.

"We're almost there." Cara huffed. Then, hearing footsteps in the distance, spoke again. "I think they're coming out to meet us."

It was probably the Mandalorians. Hopefully the Mandalorians. But what if it _was_ _n't_. Despite the logical explanation for the footsteps ahead of them, each of their free hands hovered nervously above their blaster even as they walked.

Cara stumbled in surprise as Din suddenly picked up the pace.

"Cara, he's not breathing."

Cara ducked her head closer to Paz's straining her ears, for any airflow.

Din was right.

This is not good. So not good. Paz was dying. Might already be dead (technically). But the Mando medic works wonders, Cara knew. They would be in time. They had to be in time.

The footsteps neared and Cara saw light shining on the wall opposite the tunnel the footsteps came from. Her breath caught.

_Please let it be Mandos._

_Please let it be Mandos._

If it wasn't they were done for. Paz was down, and following one good blow to the ribs, maybe less than that, and Din would be too. She would be alone.

The first body rounded the corner and in an instant both she and Din had their blasters up ahead of them. They squinted against the bright light, unable to tell yet who they were looking at. Din's hand was shaking, whether from pain or fear, Cara didn't know.

Cara could only see silhouettes as two more rounded the corner behind the first. They still hadn't identified themselves, and Cara couldn't see against the light well enough to know one way or another. Cara steadied her hand, preparing to fire. Better safe than sorry.

" _Vi Mando'ade!_ Don't shoot!"

Din and Cara's blasters dropped in relief when the Mando'a reached their ears, and the three Mando'ade swarmed around them, pulling Paz from them, two at his shoulders, one following up with lower half of him.

"Hurry, he's not breathing." Cara told them. The energy in the room switched from relief upon finding them to anxious energy upon the admission that things were even worse than expected.

Cara and Din rushed after the other three Mandalorians, able to move more quickly now that they weren't carrying Paz. The door to the covert was already open once they reached it, the great room lined on either side with Mandalorians. Upon reaching the med-bay, the _baar'ur_ s were already busy rushing around, prepping equipment.

One of the _baar'ur_ assisted in getting Paz onto the already prepared cot.

"He's not breathing." One of their rescuers explained as he helped position Paz.

The _baar'ur_ quickly ran a scanner along the length of Paz's body.

"He is. Weakly, but he is." the _baar'ur_ contested, plugging a thin plastic tubing into a port in the side of Paz's helm. Oxygen, Cara realized. She'd always though they must have a way to administer it without removing the beskar. Now she knew.

The medics bustled around, removing Paz's beskar, everything except the helmet, before speaking out to another in rapid fire Mando'a. To Cara, it sounded like a question, but one that left no doubt about the desired answer. The answer didn't appear to be the desired one though.

" _Ni!_ "

Paz's body was drenched in sweat, and Cara couldn't help but wonder whether it was the poison or going through the lava fields with heat conducting armor. Either way, Paz had to be dehydrated, and that couldn't be helping his cause.

The medic seemed to be on the same path of thought, wasting no time at stripping away Paz's flight suit, cutting it in pieces to make it easier. She was working the lower half off while another placed an IV into him, just fluids, by the looks of the bag. Once the pants were off, a medic took to cleaning and bandaging the wounds on Paz's legs.

They were deeper than they had seemed back on the lava fields. In reflection, it was really a wonder he walked on them as long as he did. The pain he must have been in...

Paz's body seized, limbs going so taught the pushed his back off the cot, then dropped him down, elapsing in to a fit of shaking. Din had previously been shifting, watching the medics go about their work, but now he went stock still - eyes locked on Paz's body as it spasmed so hard the medics were forced to take a step back to avoid getting knocked about by flailing limbs.

There was plenty of Mando'a yelling amongst the chaos, mostly by the medics, but also amongst the non-medics that were doing their best to help.

Cara gave a hard flinch when a hand came down on her shoulder, spinning around to the source and nearly bumping into Din in the process. The hand released upon her surprise, taking a step back, palms up.

"It's just me."

It was just Thravaa.

"We're not supposed to be in here." The words were directed at Din now. " Come on, you know the rules."

Cara nudged Din, who responded somewhat belatedly.

"It's Paz." Din's eyes drifted back to the still seizing body.

"I know, Din." Thravaa spoke gently. "But that's why the rules are there."

A blaring alarm redirected all their attentions back to the medics, who somehow appeared even more panicked than before. Cara couldn't tell what the medics were shouting, but Thravaa tensed beside them, and she knew it couldn't be good.

Thravaa didn't even ask this time, just grabbed both of their arms and pulled them away from the room. They kept moving, and he only stopped them once the alarm no longer echoed in their ears. Cara could still hear it though, bouncing about in her mind.

Soon though, the noise and ruckus faded from their minds. Cara still felt the fighter's rush, and knew she probably would for a few hours yet. Din on the other hand - Cara watched as the adrenaline drained from his body, arm creeping up to his midsection as pain finally began to register in his mind again. The other arm he placed against the covert wall as his breaths began to come quick and shallow. The rest of him was stock still, helmet resting against the stone wall.

"I think you need to sit down, bud."

Din sprang against Cara's touch the moment she placed a hand on his arm, and he darted down the hall and around the corner. It wasn't but a second after rounding the corner that a retching noise erupted from him and Cara realized what was going on.

"I'll find help." Thravaa said, "Stay with him."

* * *

Din cursed the sheer _irony_ of his situation.

He cursed the fact that the pain and adrenaline had sloshed his stomach enough that it felt the need to bring its contents up, the contraction of it all setting his ribs on _fire_ thus restarting the process.

Worst of all- it wouldn't stop. Again, and again, until there wasn't anything coming up any more. His stomach didn't seem to care and he began dry heaving, which, somehow, was worse. He hardly had time to draw breath between heaves, and he felt his vision fading at the edges.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't _breathe._

Panic began to hit, and Din choked on every breath that he did manage, body spasming as it tried to forcefully expel everything that wasn't there. All he could see was dots now, body rapidly alternating between hot and cold, between fire and ice as his limbs suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. His mind drew blank.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear Cara's voice, but the words weren't registering. They couldn't make it through the onslaught of agony overwhelming him.

He couldn't _breathe._

* * *

Cara paced with indecision. It had been several minutes and Din still hadn't responded to anything she said. All she heard coming from around the corner were gut-wrenching retches intermingled with the occasional desperate gasp for air.

"Din, I need you to trust me." She announced. "I'm coming in. I promise I won't look."

She was still wearing the face covering Thravaa had given her, and she adjusted it to cover her eyes entirely, rendering her sightless, before feeling her way along the wall until her foot met something solid and metal, sending it rolling along the ground.

_Din's helmet._

Carefully reaching out an arm, it came to rest against what she realized was Din's back. He was bent double towards the wall, hands out to support himself as his whole body clenched at the severity of his stomach's rebellion.

Keeping her head pointedly away from Din's she peeked under the makeshift blind fold down at the ground, inspecting the vomit.

 _No blood._ That was something at least.

There was really nothing Cara could do to help at this point, not without actually being able to look at him, so she settled for just being there - a sturdy hand on his back, hoping it provided some level of comfort, but in truth it was as much for her own benefit as his.

He was out of it enough that she doubted he even knew she was there.

It felt like it had been hours, but Cara knew she'd only gotten there a number of seconds ago. Just in time, it seemed too.

After a particularly intense heave, Cara felt Din go slack against her hand. Catching him by the belt and shoulder, doing her best to avoid jostling his ribs, she guided him to the ground. She propped him partly against the wall, partly against herself, hoping to ease his stilted breathing.

For a moment he was peaceful, limp, and she thought either the pain or perhaps exhaustion had been enough to put him out. But then he was heaving again, writhing against her side. Cara's breath caught for a moment as images of Paz's seizing in the med-bay came unbidden, aligning perfectly with the periodic tension she felt in Din's body.

Had he been bitten and not told them?

That certainly seemed like a Din sort of thing to do. But surely, surely he would have gotten worse faster like Paz had? And he wasn't that stupid. Cara not knowing about the issue would have put all of them at risk. What if Din had collapsed while they were carrying Paz and they'd fallen down the stairs or something?

No. Din wasn't that stupid. He might not have told Paz or Thravaa, but he would have told her. He would have told Cara.

_But what if he didn't know? What if-_

Cara came back to herself sharply.

_No._

Din needed her, she had to stay calm. Thravaa was coming with help. It would be alright. Paz hadn't shown any signs of nausea, and neither had Greef, when he'd been poisoned. So that couldn't be a symptom, no. It was just pain. It had to be just pain.

But why though? Why now as opposed to earlier? Din had even fallen into the railing of the stairs, directly against his ribs, and he hadn't done this then. Leastwise, not so badly.

Cara heard footsteps coming round the corner and she hurriedly leant over, blocking Din from sight.

"He's not got his helmet on." she warned.

"I'll close my eyes, then." came the Armorer's steady voice.

Cara hesitated a moment. She was blindfolded and her eyes clenched shut, and even if she wasn't, the armorer's eyes couldn't be seen from behind the helm, she had no way of knowing...

 _This is the armorer. The leader._ If anyone was to be trusted, she was.

Slowly, Cara moved away from Din revealing the form that was currently limp against the wall, taking air in small gasps. Cara could feel the armorer coming closer, brushing up against her as she knelt next to them.

"You can open your eyes." said the armorer, "I've covered his face."

Cara did as told, and saw that a light cloth mask rested over Din's face. It didn't detract from his ability to breathe, instead looking as though it had been designed for exactly that purpose.

_Of course it had. This couldn't be the first time they've had had this issue, people get sick all the time, and..._

"Help me remove his armor." The armorer said, drawing Cara out of her thoughts. "It should ease his breath and we'll get a better scan of him without the beskar impeding it."

Briefly, Cara berated herself for not thinking of that already. How had she been so stupid...

"Cara, the armor."

Her fingers found the latch to Din's cuirass, releasing it as the armorer did the same on the other side. A wave of tension went through Din's body just as they set the cuirass to the side, but he didn't curl into himself this time. Didn't have the energy. Instead, a hand found Cara's wrist, squeezing tight as he managed to dredge a halting breath into his lungs.

But it was the first sign of consciousness the armorer had seen as of yet.

"Djarin, can you hear me?"

All she received was a haphazard breath in response.

Cara continued to work at getting the armor off him, soon all that remained on his top half was the back piece and a pauldron.

"Help me with his flight suit." the armorer tugged the pauldron from his shoulder. "Did he take any contact to his ribs during the fight?"

Cara shook her head, "No-" she paused, their trip back coming to mind.

_The railing._

She looked up, meeting the armorer's eyes. Apparently her face spoke the truth faster than her mouth could, because the armorer looked back to Din.

"He may have punctured a lung, then. We must hurry."

Cara tugged at the zipper to the flight suit, bringing it down to Din's waist. The wrappings from his earlier treatment were still there, but they looked far, far tighter than they had been before.

The armorer quickly ran the scanner over him.

"Lung isn't punctured." she reported, much to Cara's relief. "But the bruised tissue surrounding his ribs has swollen beneath the wrappings; it's biting into him every time he draws breath. His lungs aren't able to expand without causing pain to his ribs."

The armorer drew out her vibroblade and carefully cut away the bandages binding Din's ribs. Once they were gone, a palatable relief spread through the corridor.

Din calmed, able to draw a little deeper breath now, and the heaving had long since subsided, Cara realized. But his breaths still came quick, and still shallower than she would like, despite the absence of the bandages.

"It's just the pain." The armorer said. "Thravaa's comes with something for it now, and we'll get him on oxygen as soon as we can move him."

Soon enough, Thravaa joined them.

"Sorry, I came quick as I could. It's- It's still chaos in there." Thravaa opened his hand, revealing two small syringes. "I wasn't sure whether you just wanted something for the pain or if you wanted to put him out."

"His body is exhausted." The armorer said, "The moment he feels relief his mind will give him little choice. We need to be able to monitor his state of consciousness."

Thravaa nodded, pocketing the sedative, and injecting Din with the pain-killers. The armorer was right. Once the injection hit his blood stream, he let out a deep, soft breath, and then he was out.

Cara's heart stopped when his tight grip faded from her wrist, irrationally fearing the worst despite having known what to expect.

_He's just unconscious. He's not been bitten, no punctured lung, his life was never truly in danger. He was just hurting and he's not now. You've seen this before, hundreds of times. It's ok._

She mentally repeated these thoughts as she helped them move Din back into the med-bay, carefully going around the edges of the room, avoiding those who were still tending to Paz. Cara's eyes strayed to Paz. Din was going to ask about him when he woke up. She needed to know what to tell him.

People were hovering around him, so he was still alive, best she could tell. She couldn't hear the alarm anymore, and the medics worked less frantically, but no less busily. The IV hooked up to him was a blue color now, rather than clear as it had been. Some kind of anti-venom, she thought dully. He seemed stable now, at least.

They lay Din on a cot across the room from Paz. Realizing that the way he lay couldn't possibly be comfortable, Cara went about arranging his limbs much in the same way they sat when he slept.

One arm above, curled around his head, the other resting gently on his hip.

When she was done, Cara felt the armorer's hand on her shoulder.

"Come. There is nothing more you can do for him." she said. "All he needs is rest."

As they approached the med-bay door, Cara looked back once more at his unconscious form.

He would be alright.

Cara followed the armorer down the hallway.

He would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, woah. That was pretty intense. But it worked out. No one is dead. Also, this is officially the longest chapter I have ever written in my LIFE, but I genuinely couldn't break it up. This just kinda has to be read in one go.
> 
> K'atini = It's only pain.
> 
> "Vi Mando'ade!" = We're Mandalorians!
> 
> Baar'ur = medic


	13. Stay Present.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace after the storm.

She felt numb now. Yet somehow her body shook with cold, limbs weighing on her like lead.

Cara knew it was just her adrenaline finally falling after hours of buzzing intensity. This... This was familiar. Reassuring, despite the discomfort that came with it. It was like being somewhere entirely new and unfamiliar, but then bumping into an old friend. Which, she supposed, was sort of what it was.

She let the clacking of the armorer's boots fill her mind as she followed, only vaguely aware that Thravaa followed behind her, feeling much the same.

They entered the forge room, the armorer gesturing for both to take a seat.

"Were either of you injured?" She asked.

Forcing herself to feel past the exhaustion plaguing her bones, Cara noted that her only injuries were some bruising and a scattering of scrapes and cuts that sluggishly dribbled blood along her skin. Thravaa seemed to be in similar condition. Sore, tired, but generally alright.

Cara found herself staring into the flames of the forge as the armorer tended to the two of them.

"Tell me what happened."

Well wasn't that a story.

And they told her, each filling in where the other couldn't.

They told her about how they had gone into the valley to better their aim, how reptavians had swarmed them from the skies, preventing them from leaving, in some cases from even reaching cover. How Din showed up, picked the reptavians off from the ridge until he ran out of charges. How he'd joined them in the valley. The struggle that followed, how Paz had been grabbed, bitten. The panic to figure out how to erase the evidence they'd been there. The speeder they saw on the way back, fear they'd been found out. That they'd be caught. The story ended there, but even as Cara's mouth stopped, her mind went on.

It had been close. So close. If one more thing had gone wrong... If it hadn't been the Mandalorians that met them, or if Din had shot the reptavian just a little later, if it had injected Paz with just a little more venom... If the wrappings hadn't protected Din when he knocked against the railing... If his lung had been punctured... _If we didn't make it in time..._

"Keep your minds present, _verda_." The armorer said, looking between Cara and Thravaa, "What's done is done. It is time to move on."

The armorer disappeared behind them, and they could hear her footsteps echo down the corridor.

Cara's eyes drifted, first down to her hands, sticky with Paz's drying blood, then to pale purple bruises that dotted her wrist, where Din had grabbed her in his pain.

The images flooded her mind unbidden, of Paz's seizure, of Din's fight for breath. She could still hear it, feel it. Hear the alarms blaring signaling Paz's worsening condition. Feel Din's body writhing against hers with every heave of his stomach... Feel his fingers digging into the flesh of her wrist...

A wet cloth dropped into her hands, and she glanced up to see Thravaa setting down a bowl of water between them.

"Stay present." It was an order, not a suggestion.

Thravaa took a seat across from her, beginning to wipe down his armor, and the little skin that wasn't hidden beneath it. Washing away any evidence of the day's adventures.

Silently, Cara followed suit.

* * *

The armorer entered the room not long after, holding steaming tins of liquid that Cara could smell the moment she walked through the door way.

Thravaa had risen from his seat awhile ago, after inspecting his armor to see that it was not damaged. Taking one of the tins, Thravaa asked his leave. After a moment's consideration, the armorer nodded.

"See to it that you rest."

"Yes, _alor_." Thravaa inclined his head, then left the room.

Cara's eyes drew back to the fire as the armorer sat across from her.

If only she had remembered the disruptor chargers were in her pocket earlier, then she could have-

"I see you got cleaned up."

Cara just nodded, accepting the tin the armorer pressed to her hand.

She held it, staring at the liquid as it swirled. Her mind kept floating back to the battle, just as it always did with close calls.

But she'd had enough of that. the armorer was right. What's done is done. Cara forced her mind onto a different, less beaten topic.

More specifically, to Thravaa, and the mixed messages he was sending. They'd nearly fought back in the tunnels, before the hunt. He kept picking at her, seeming to know all the right buttons to push, but when they returned, he'd been... not _kind_ exactly, but less of an " _shabuir,"_ as the Mandos put it. Even during the battle, and some of afterwards, Thravaa had been contrary to near everything she said, but once Paz was down, he was all business. He did what was necessary, didn't even question her requests...

"Drink," The armorer prompted.

Cara nearly had the cup to her mouth before remembering that she still wore the Mando'ade face covering. She felt her face color a bit, but ignored it, removing the mask. She breathed in the scent, spices assaulting her sinuses as she tasted it.

The liquid set her tongue burning, and now... Now she understood.

Understood, why spice was so precious to the Mando'ade.

The sensation was overwhelming, it flooded her senses and letting her think on little else than the oppressive heat. She took another sip and embraced the feeling, allowing it to ground her, to root her more firmly in her surroundings - on the here, and now.

Cara was safe. They were all safe, and a little more of the battle washed away with each sip.

She was surprised she'd allowed her mind to float so far. Usually the post-battle crash didn't get to her so much; she was more than used to it by now. This time though, it had stuck with her, and she wondered what made the difference. Maybe because there was so much more at stake.

She forced her thoughts to end there, and gazing across at the armorer, Cara took another sip before speaking.

"What does _K'atini_ mean?"

"A direct translation would be 'It's only pain.'" the armorer answered, resting her cup on the low table. "It's part encouragement, part challenge."

Good, she'd used the word in the correct context then, at least. A comfortable silence followed as they each sipped at the spicy tea, but soon enough another curiosity bubbled in Cara's mind.

"Thravaa said something about 'the rules' when we were in the med-bay." It wasn't a question per say, but it begged of one.

"Those involved in a mission are not allowed in the room when others involved are being treated for critical wounds, especially if they are _vod._ " The armorer said, "It's meant to keep the past from stealing them."

_Keep the past from stealing them?_

"What do you mean?" Cara asked.

"When you were in your regiment, shock trooper, you must have seen many battles."

Cara agreed. She'd seen enough. More than enough, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Then you've had those that came home in body, but left their minds on the battlefield."

_Ohh..._

"You mean PTSD?"

"I am sure it has many names."

It was times like this Cara was starkly reminded, that for all their technological advances, for all their capacity for war and destruction, the Mandalorians were a _tribal_ people. A tribal people that had hidden underground for decades, only coming out when absolutely necessary. If they didn't learn it during a hunt, and Din didn't bring it back in his report, they probably didn't know about it.

And yet, they were a warrior people composed entirely of children orphaned to wars and child soldiers that would likely become so. If they didn't have a manner for lessening the effects of battle fatigue, they likely wouldn't have had a people much longer.

She appreciated that about the Mandalorians. They were all warriors, yes, but they were family as well, and they cared for one another. When Cara was a shock trooper, they were all just soldiers, nothing more. Just numbers to the higher-ups that posted them. When battles were over, they were over, and you alone were left to pick up the pieces. Sure, sometimes friends gathered to drink away the pain, but broken people can't put others back together any more than they can themselves.

Though the Mandalorians didn't have a word for it, at least as far as she had heard, they handled it better than any army she'd ever met. They preferred to prevent it from ever happening, rather than ignoring it until they couldn't any more, and were forced to treat it.

"Cara?"

Cara looked up, reassuring the armorer with a slight smile.

"I've seen worse, trust me. I'll be fine."

"I have no doubt." the armorer stood, collecting her and Cara's cup. "Get some rest, _Din'burc'ya_."

Cara was about to make a remark of how she doubted she'd be able to sleep for another few hours yet, never could after battle, but then she felt her eyes drooping at the corners, a yawn beginning to build in her throat. Her body was leaden, mind calm. Yeah, she could probably sleep now.

"There's more of the tea in the kitchens, should you find yourself in need of it."

The armorer left the room.

Cara lingered a little longer in the forge, spice still hot on her breath. It was a few moments before she convinced herself to stand on aching muscles and head to her enclave.

It was nice, she thought, being able to go to bed secure in the knowledge that someone else was keeping watch. Din and Paz were being tended to by people who cared about them as much or more than she did. She'd seen Grogu toddling down the hall earlier surrounded by other _ad_ and their parents as they prepared for bed, seemingly oblivious to all that had happened. The mandalorians must have been excellent at distraction, to prevent him from sensing his father's pain.

Gently rolling onto her bed, she let her body still and eyes slip shut.

Cara slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another day of decent productivity! Got to see some Cara/Armorer connection, got to see a bit of Cara's thoughts on Thravaa. Thravaa not being a complete jerk, just sorta gruff. He's honestly not trying to be a shabuir. Okay... maybe he is, but it's for a good cause. He's just worried about the covert and doesn't trust Cara as easily as Din and Paz seem to.
> 
> verda = warriors
> 
> alor = leader
> 
> shabuir = jerk, but stronger. Essentially (A-hole)
> 
> Din'burc'ya = Friend of Din. Common name for Cara among the Mandalorians, especially the more traditional of them.


	14. Beskar Remembers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all need to sleep at night.

Cara woke up quite suddenly, with only one urgent thought consuming her mind.

 _Din._ _Check on Din._

Which was strange, because she hadn't been particularly worried about him last night. Nor right now, come to think of it. She knew full well that he was safe and on the mend, but still...

Cara rolled over, groaning at her sore muscles, telling herself it could wait 'til morning. Din was with the medics. It was fine.

But it wasn't. It wasn't fine. She had to see him with her own eyes. See that he was okay, that he was alive.

Cara laid there for a few more minutes, pillow pressed to her face, but the thought didn't abate.

_Din. Check on Din._

She was relatively certain it was still night, though it was hard to tell underground. When she stepped out of her enclave, she didn't hear anyone talking or moving about. So yes, still night then.

She felt a tug on her pant leg, and looked down to see Grogu, who gently cooed at her.

"Careful down there, I nearly stepped on ya." Cara bent down, picking him up. "What are you doing out of bed anyway?"

And then it occurred to her. Quite a coincidence, wasn't it, that she'd woken up at this time specifically, when Grogu was just outside her enclave.

"You..." Cara adjusted Grogu in her arms, holding him in front of her. "Those weren't _my_ thoughts, were they?"

He cooed abashedly, ears falling a bit.

"There are these things called boundaries, little guy." Cara reprimanded, "You can't just pop into my head without asking and then make me think whatever you want me to. That's not nice."

The kid looked like a kicked puppy now, not even able to meet her eyes. Ugh, that really hadn't been her intention, not with the kid already worried about Din, but he had to understand limits. Then again, it's not like the kid could have explained to her what he wanted. He still couldn't talk.

"Just don't do it again, okay?" She said, "Or at least... At least just tell me that it's not _my_ thought."

Grogu brightened a bit, and pointed down the hall, tugging again on her sleeve.

"Fine." Cara sighed, "Since you woke me up anyway, I guess we might as well go for a visit."

* * *

Upon entering the med-bay, all was calm. The room was dim and void of any medics. They must have deemed Paz stable enough not to require constant watch.

Din's body was completely and totally relaxed, and Cara knew they must have kept him drugged up on the good stuff. Cara set the kid on the side of the cot, and he carefully traversed the pillow up to Din's head, placing a tiny little three fingered palm against Din's chin through the fabric.

"Eh?" The child tapped his father's face, looking for a response that didn't come.

"Shh... let him rest." Cara picked Grogu back up. "He's alright. I'm sure he'll talk to you in the morning."

Grogu looked back at Din, then to Cara again, and began quietly babbling, clearly trying to convey something of importance.

"I don't understand, can you show me?"

The child gave a grunt of annoyance before leaning towards Din, arms out, steering Cara in the direction he wanted her to go. Once they were close enough, Grogu latched onto Din's hand, and pressed it against the skin of Cara's cheek.

_Cold._

So that's what the child was trying to tell her. Din was cold.

She could see it now, the occasional shiver interrupting his otherwise peaceful sleep. Cara looked around, trying to find an extra blanket to put over him, but the room was barren of all but the basics, and she was sure the medics didn't want her rooting around their cabinets.

"Should we get some from his room?"

Grogu nodded his assent, pointing to the doorway.

Cara hesitated upon entering Din's room, hoping he wouldn't mind the intrusion. He really had seemed cold though, so surely it was fine.

She plucked the blankets from Din's bed, effectively ruining the little nest he had created the night before.

 _He'll just have to get over it._ Cara thought.

She was nearly at the doorway again before Grogu caught her attention, pointing to something in the distance.

She glanced over to see Din's armor piled in the corner.

He was always so scrupulous about maintaining his beskar, polishing it to perfection every day as the kid ate his breakfast.

It didn't look right there, sitting dirty and sodden from battle.

"You're right. We can't leave it like that; it'll just be even harder to clean later." Cara told Grogu. "Think you can handle the blankets?"

Grogu gave a determined gurgle as Cara dropped the blankets on top of him. The blankets covered him entirely, but with some maneuvering, he managed to pop his head out from beneath them. He sneezed as some fibers tickled his nose.

Collecting up the armor, and shoving the cleaning cloth and fluid into her pockets, they made their way down the hallway silently as possible.

The med-bay was still empty, barring Paz and Din, and Cara gently set the armor down on top of one of the blankets, hoping it wouldn't clink against the stone floor. The kid took the second blanket, and with Cara's help he spread it across Din, tucking it all the way up to his shoulders.

They moved to Paz, trying to observe whether he was cold as well. He didn't seem to be, in fact, he was sweating.

Likely still working off the effects of the poison, then.

Cara sat Grogu aside Din, and began to work at cleaning Din's armor.

She'd seen him do it hundreds of times before, helped him with it even, the time he broke his arm. She knew the routine, the three cloths that it took to do it correctly. The first was used to wash away the dust, dirt, and mud. This cloth was used dry, and always came away the dirtiest once finished. The next, was for blood. It always liked to get in the little crevices of the armor, and took more attention to detail. She used the cleaning fluid this time, and though the beskar appeared clean after only the first cloth, every wipe of the second came away red.

 _Beskar remembers_ , Din had said, _If you don't help it forget._

Cara pulled out the third cloth, and tiny bottle that went with it. This was for oiling the joints of the armor, to prevent the clasps from creaking as he walked. Not all Mandalorians did this, but Din did, and it had become habit.

She repeated on each piece of armor.

* * *

Cara heard Din's breath hitch in his sleep, and quickly looked up. Grogu had curled up on Din's chest, near his neck, and was doing his best to worm himself beneath the blanket.

She shot up, snatching him from Din's chest.

"No, Grogu! You can't do that."

Grogu's ears dropped as he realized he'd caused Din pain, and out came the watery baby porg eyes.

"Hey, now. Don't do that." Cara stroked a hand along his fuzzy little head. "You didn't mean to. You just can't sleep with him right now, it might hurt him."

The child cooed mournfully, looking down and making grabby hands at Din.

"I know kid, but you can't, okay?" Cara adjusted her grip on him, shivering as his chilly little toes pressed up against her arm. "Here, you're cold too?"

Cara wrapped the last blanket around her shoulders, tugging it to cover Grogu as he curled up in her arms. She settled on the floor, back against the wall.

"See, we can watch both of them from here." Cara shifted Grogu to one arm, and picked up Din's pauldron, starting to clean it.

It was slower going, now that one of her arms had been claimed by the green bean, but it was doable.

Soon the kid had settled against her stomach, purring gently as he began drifting to sleep, eyes just barely cracked open, watching the rise and fall of his father's chest.

Cara continued with the armor as the kid slept, a silent sentry over the clan of two, as her mind was lulled by the repetitive, predictable sound of cloth on beskar.

* * *

The _baar'ur_ shuffled about her enclave following the vibration of her vambrace. She'd been able to catch a few hours of sleep, but it was time to check on her patients once more.

Din was fine, it was just a matter of managing his pain and keeping him still enough that he didn't worsen it - which was quite the job as per usual. It was testament to the severity of his pain that relief had kept him out this long.

But Paz, Paz still fought the poison ravaging his body. She hadn't liked leaving him unattended, but in truth, there was nothing more she could do. It was up to him now, up to his stubbornness to get him through this.

They'd began cooking up the antidote the moment Thravaa ran in warning them of their approach, but it had taken awhile and Paz had weakened in the meantime. Blood loss hadn't helped him either, causing his pulse to pick up and spread the poison faster throughout his body.

The _baar'ur_ wished Din or Thravaa had thought to staunch the bleeding somehow before taking off towards the covert. But it was the heat of the moment, and she couldn't blame them for not thinking of it. As it was, the strip of cloth Din had tied off on Paz's arm was the only reason his heart continued to beat. If he hadn't... It would have been far too late.

She appreciated that about Din. Despite his blatant disregard for his own safety, he kept a cool head when it came to others. In fact, she'd been slightly disappointed when he hadn't branched med corps, instead following in his _buir's_ footsteps and becoming a _beroya._ She couldn't deny he was good at his job though.

Upon reaching the med-bay, the _baar'ur_ began to inspect her patients. Paz was holding out, pulse weak and fast, but consistent. That was good news. She'd seen a number of these bites in her time as medic. If he made it through the night, she could be fairly certain he'd make a recovery. She pushed another dose of the anti-venom through Paz's IV, watching as it swirled with the saline drip.

As she moved to Din, she noticed he had two blankets, which was one more than she'd supplied him with earlier.

 _One of the others must have come to check on them earlier,_ she thought.

Din was breathing well on his own now, the swelling within his ribs having gone down and his pain reduced by the medicine. The _baar'ur_ turned off the oxygen and closed her eyes, carefully removing the nasal cannula from his face. She ensured his mask was still in place, and opened her eyes again.

After going to dispose of the cannula, she paused at the cabinet. A gentle snore swept through the room, and for the first time the _baar'ur_ noticed the form huddled against the wall, hidden by the shadows that stretched across the dim room.

Upon closer inspection, the source of the snore proved to be Din's _ad,_ curled up against Cara's chest, hugging her arm to his head as a pillow. The shock-trooper was slumped against the wall, head having fallen forward in such a way that she would surely regret in the morning.

A dull clank rang out as the _baar'ur_ 's boot met something solid. Carefully keeping the light of her _buy'ce_ from their eyes, she looked down at the neatly polished beskar strewn across the floor, the last piece, a pauldron, still held loosely in the dropper's hand.

This _verd_ , she was really something. The medic hadn't known what to make of her at first. She had seemed like any other soldier turned mercenary, blunt and bullheaded. Her presence in the covert had made her uncomfortable previously.

Now though, the _baar'ur_ understood what Din saw in her - why he had claimed her as _vod_.

Watching as the two slept soundly, she considered them.

The warriors had all been dead on their feet following the hunt, she'd seen them following the armorer like ghosts: their eyes glazed and legs shaking with effort.

The medic doubted Cara would wake if she tried to adjust her more comfortably.

After removing the pauldron from her hand, the medic took Cara's shoulders, gently tilting her away from the wall and lowering her towards the floor. The dropper stirred a bit as her skin met the cool stone, mumbling as her arms instinctively tightened around the child, but she did not wake.

The _baar'ur_ smiled at the sight. After ensuring that both were cocooned by the blanket, she checked her patients once more, then returned to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a slow chapter, but we got some cute Cara-Grogu fluff! Din will wake up soon though, wonder how that will turn out? How will he react to the news that Paz still ain't doing so hot?
> 
> baar'ur = medic
> 
> buir = parent
> 
> beroya = bounty hunter
> 
> verd = warrior

**Author's Note:**

> And here is my first attempt of a Mando fic of any significant length... So... Hope you enjoyed. Cara here is probably a bit OOC, but honestly she's exhausted, has a tad of a concussion, and holding her eyes open is about the best she can do at this point.


End file.
